


star fire and silver

by elesssar



Series: Stagelight 'verse [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Theatre, Anxiety, Birthmarks, Ice Cream Parlors, Long-Haired Victor Nikiforov, M/M, also contains:, and dancing in the stairwell, fluff fluff fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-28
Updated: 2017-01-28
Packaged: 2018-09-20 08:28:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 38,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9482801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elesssar/pseuds/elesssar
Summary: Not the stars in the sky, but the stars on the stage – or: in a high school production of Romeo & Juliet, Yuuri Katsuki is cast as Juliet. His long-time crush and the golden boy of the theatre department Viktor Nikiforov is cast as Romeo. The problem is, Yuuri can’t tell if Viktor’s flirtatiousness is just method acting, or if it might be something more.





	

In the oppressive heat of a February afternoon, summer feels no nearer to being over than it had in November. Stuffed back into their uniforms after the long months of shorts and t-shirts, the pupils of Hasetsu College are very vocal about their disgruntled feelings. Leaving his final class for the day, Yuuri Katsuki is one of them.

His classmate complains to him about the weather as he walks – it is at least 25 degrees, but all the same, a beautiful day. The sky is the rich cerulean shade specific to summer in the south, and the sun bears down on the overbaked earth with a sweltering intensity that, Yuuri’s classmate tells him animatedly, he really feels is just plain rude.

Yuuri agrees, but then excuses himself, and hurries across the quad. He is in a rush, needs to get to where he is going as fast as possible – he _has_ to know.

The cast list for this year’s production had been posted in the drama corridor at 3:20 on the dot, and it is a matter of great urgency that Yuuri finds out if he has gotten in. He’s been worrying all week, ever since the audition – he’d thought at the time that he’d done a pretty good job, but now…

He wants a main role so badly that it makes his teeth hurt, and if he doesn’t get one it will really just be embarrassing. There aren’t _that_ many drama students in the senior school, and it would be a little awkward if _any_ of the year twelve and thirteen students didn’t at least make the chorus.

There is a throng in the drama corridor. After the bright light of outside, it takes Yuuri’s eyes a second to adjust to the dim interior. People are calling out to their friends, congratulating or questioning. Younger students are blocking the way, talking excitedly about which of them has made it into the chorus. There is also a scrum of year thirteens standing directly in front of the cast lists. Yuuri hovers awkwardly on the fringes, trying to see around them. If Chris would just move his head, god damn it…

There. Yuuri moves for a moment from his tiptoes onto pointe, and squints at the lines of tiny print. Where is his name? He reads the chorus list twice, and it’s not there. He starts to get a little sinking feeling in his stomach. His audition must have been _terrible_. He hadn’t really wanted to be in the chorus – it was all year tens anyway – but… He feels his cheeks start to heat up in shame. He drops back to flat feet, and squints between Mickey Crispino and Seung-gil Lee to try to read the main cast list. He supposes Viktor Nikiforov will be one of the leads, because he always is.

It’s funny that he’s not here right now, actually. Yuuri glances around the hallway to check. Nope, Viktor definitely isn’t anywhere to be seen. Weird. But also maybe a good thing right now, all things considered.

Pushing away thoughts of his long-term and massively unrequited crush on Viktor with some difficulty, Yuuri tries to edge around behind Georgi for a better look at the cast. Georgi notices his trying to edge by and moves aside – and then does a double take.

“Hey…” he says slowly. He’s peering at Yuuri with a vaguely critical eye. It makes Yuuri feel a little uncomfortable, like he’s an insect under a microscope.

“Um, hey?” he replies. He’s never actually spoken to Georgi before – it’s shameful to admit (so he doesn’t) but Yuuri is still a little afraid of the year thirteens. They’re all so _loud_ , and _confident_ , and _really_ good at drama.

Georgi elbows Chris violently in the side and says something, but Yuuri isn’t really paying attention. At last, he can read the principal cast list. He reads from the bottom up:

 

**Lord Capulet:** Michele Crispino

**Lady Capulet:** Guang-Hong Ji

**Lord Montague:** Emil Nekola

**Lady Montague:** Kenjirou Minami

**Paris:** Christophe Giacommetti

**Prince:** Otabek Altin

**Friar Lawrence:** Leo de la Iglasia

**Benvolio:** Jean-Jaques Leroy

**Mercutio** Georgi Popovich

**Tybalt:** Seung-gil Lee

**Nurse:** Phichit Chulanont

**Romeo:** Viktor Nikiforov

**Juliet:** Yuuri Katsuki

 

Wait – _what_?!

Yuuri reads the list again. Viktor is Romeo of course, a leading role, but…but…

“What,” Yuuri says aloud.

“Congratulations Yuuri!” Emil, a slight, blond year thirteen boy with whom Yuuri has never spoken in his life, pats him on the shoulder.

“What,” Yuuri says again.

“Yeah, congratulations Yuuri,” Chris folds his arms and leans against the wall. He winks at Yuuri and then adds “well done on beating us all to the starring role!” The last is said with Chris’ trademark dramatic pout.

This is not particularly encouraging, and Yuuri blanches.

“Uh, I’m sorry,” he says. Chris’ green eyes go wide.

“What? No! Don’t apologise!”

“But…you said…I…”

“Don’t take everything so seriously, Yuuri,” Chris ruffles his hair (Yuuri isn’t totally sure whether he should be offended by this or not, and elects not to be), “We all wish we could be the Juliet to Viktor’s Romeo,” Chris pretends to swoon, forcing Mickey to catch him.

“Um, speak for yourself,” Mickey says as he looks down at Chris’ dramatically fluttering eyelids, “ _I_ don’t want to make out with Viktor on stage!”

“ _I_ do,” Chris says with great fervour.

“We know,” Otabek rolls his dark eyes, and then kicks Chris in the ankle, “get up, moron. You’re scaring the twelvie.”

All of the year thirteens turn collectively and stare at Yuuri. He has been watching this display of theatrics with something akin to rising panic. The rational part of his mind has been euphorically celebrating landing a main role, but the slightly _less_ rational part of his mind (i.e. 90% of it) has been thoroughly fixated on Chris’ words. Make out with Viktor onstage? Viktor Nikiforov, on whom Yuuri has had a crush ever since he was _twelve_? His brain is stuttering like a broken record, going over and over and over.

“Sorry, Yuuri,” Chris apologises as Mickey finally succeeds in shoving him back to his feet. He doesn’t look all that sorry.

“Uh,” Yuuri says, “Um… gotta go! Bye!”

When all else fails, run. He tries to turn and dash away, but Georgi reaches out and loops an arm around his neck.

“Go thank Miss Okukawa, dummy,” he says, twirling Yuuri around and giving him a shove in the direction of the drama office.

“Oh yeah,” says Yuuri. Of course. He can’t just run away without going and thanking the drama teachers for casting him as one of the leads. Which it totally exciting! Yeah! It is! But he’ll be kissing Viktor Nikiforov onstage, _ohmyGodohmyGodohmyGOD_. Yuuri tries to pull himself together as he allows Georgi and Otabek to escort him to the drama office like some sort of honour guard.

At his knock, the door is opened immediately by Miss Okukawa. She has been the drama teacher at Hasetsu College for some eight years now – small, dark haired and fierce in the defense of theatre, she invokes a loyalty amongst drama students unlike anything Yuuri has ever seen.

“Hey, Yuuri,” she smiles down at him now, “congratulations!”

“Thank you,” Yuuri says automatically, “I…am having trouble believing it? But thank you so much!”

“No problem Yuuri,” she says warmly, “you deserve it, believe me. Come in,” she stands aside to let him into the office, and as she moves away Yuuri sees that Viktor is lying on the sofa. He is peering with interest at the door, and tips his body sideways off the couch in order to stare at Yuuri as he comes into the room.

“Hey Yuuri,” he says with a bright smile as Yuuri freezes halfway into the room, “congratulations!”

Yuuri’s brain short-circuits.

Viktor is the most effortlessly elegant boy – or person, really – that Yuuri has ever met. Or – not met. They have never actually been introduced and Yuuri has always admired him from afar. Until now, they have never even spoken.

When Yuuri first arrived at Hasetsu College as an awkward and nervous year nine, Viktor was one of the year tens assigned to his class to help them integrate into the larger student body. Larger than life, confident and self-assured, Viktor was everything that twelve-year-old Yuuri wished he could be. And when he’d seen Viktor perform in the year ten class production a few months later, Yuuri’s fate was officially sealed.

As far as Yuuri was concerned, no one had ever done as fine a job of playing Alice in Wonderland or ever would do again. Viktor had been perfect for the role then, with his delicate frame, pale skin, and fluffy platinum hair. Now, three years later, Yuuri still finds Viktor impossibly beautiful.

Here, now, today, he has rolled up the sleeves of his uniform shirt, and discarded his regulation tie in order to undo his top two buttons. He has evidently been growing his hair out over the summer – it reaches his shoulders now in silvery sheets, which he keeps tied up in a ponytail for the school day.

He also has no idea that Yuuri has been mildly in love with him for three years.

“I – didn’t know you knew my name?” is the first thing that Yuuri manages to say. He immediately wants to hit himself in the head.

“Aww, Yuuri,” Viktor’s laugh is like his hair – silvery and light, “of course I know your name!”

Yuuri can’t even respond to that. He just gapes, like a fish starved of oxygen…which is exactly how he feels.

“Sit,” Miss Okukawa orders. Yuuri tentatively sits down beside Viktor on the sofa. As soon as he sits down Viktor turns his back against the wall and folds himself over his knees in order to better survey Yuuri. This scrutiny makes Yuuri feel mildly discomfited, but also flattered.

“It hasn’t really sunk in yet,” he says to Miss Okukawa, who is sitting up on her desk with her feet propped on the other sofa. She has picked up a mug of tea off of her desk, and is cradling it in her hands.

“Well, Yuuri,” she says, “Mme. Baranovskaya and I were very impressed with your audition.”

“Ah,” Yuuri ducks his head, “that’s good to know?”

“Yeah, it should be,” Miss Okukawa says, “it’s good you’re here though – Viktor and I were just discussing some of the ideas he has. We want this to be a collaborative project, and we’re open to any and all suggestions.”

“Oh. Okay,” Yuuri says.

“I was just saying,” Viktor says, and Yuuri turns back to look at him, “it’s always been pitched as like a totally genderless adaption, right?”

“Right,” Yuuri agrees.

“I was thinking of growing my hair out even more,” Viktor winks at Yuuri, and reaches up to tug the hair tie out of his hair. It falls forwards over his face, and he shakes it out of the way.

“Like – I don’t know; I think playing with the gender expectations of Romeo would be kind of fun. What do you think?”

“Yup,” Yuuri peeps. Viktor laughs again and rests his chin on his knees so that his hair falls over his eyes.

 “Yup playing with gender is fun, or yup I should keep growing my hair out?”

“…both?” Yuuri tries.

“Both is good,” Miss Okukawa says, “how fast does your hair grow?”

“Pretty quick,” Viktor turns back to her, “we have ten weeks right? It could get halfway to my waist by then.”

“Holy shit,” Yuuri says, before he can stop himself.

“Right?!” Viktor winks at him, and then busies himself with tying his hair back up again.

“That will definitely be interesting to play with,” Miss Okukawa agrees, “honestly, we did sort of consider that when we were doing the casting.”

“What – my hair?” Viktor asks. Miss Okukawa nods, and takes a sip of her tea. It has evidently gone cold, because she grimaces and places it to the side.

“Yeah,” she says, “we knew that we wanted you two to play the leads, but we couldn’t decide who ought to play which role. But then we thought it might surprise the audience more to reverse the expectations.”

“So out of the two of us, I was the more masculine?” Yuuri asks dryly. Viktor makes a strange snorting noise, and Yuuri glances over to find that he has stuffed his fist into his mouth to muffle a laugh.

“Well,” Miss Okukawa says, “if we had been going to conform to the traditional expectations of the characters, Viktor would have been easier to transform into a girl.”

“Thanks,” Viktor says, and twirls a lock of his hair and flutters his eyelashes in an exaggerated play of femininity. Yuuri finds this absurdly attractive, and hastily looks away.

“I’m still a little bit surprised the school’s letting you do this,” he says instead. Miss Okukawa laughs darkly.

“You and me both, kid,” she says. Placing her palms behind her back, she stretches until her back clicks, “we’re still jumping through hoops as to what we’ll be allowed to get away with.”

“Wait, really?”

“Mmn,” Miss Okukawa frowns, “not to speak ill of my management, but it’s taken a good year of arguing for them to even allow us to do this without bringing in a handful of token girls. I think they only agreed in the end because we don’t have to pay for rights to Shakespeare.”

“Money speaks,” Yuuri says. Miss Okukawa huffs.

“Damn straight, Yuuri,” she sighs, ”damn straight.”

“So,” Viktor looks between Yuuri and Miss Okukawa for a moment, and then frowns, “does that mean we might not even be allowed to kiss?”

The totally casual way he says this, accompanied by a wave of the hand between himself and Yuuri, sets a blush alight on Yuuri’s cheeks again. Damnit, he’d _just_ managed to put the whole ‘kissing Viktor’ thing to rest in the back of his mind.

Miss Okukawa shrugs, “It would kind of defeat the purpose if not – whether they ‘allow’ it or no, I expect a full spectacular onstage romance between the two of you,” she points a finger at each in turn, and her tone is jokingly light, but Yuuri knows she is dead serious. Miss O may like to laugh and joke with her students, and she’s the most personable of all the teachers in the school, but she’s also dead serious about acting – she expects only the best from her students, and Yuuri knows that this is far from an exception.

“Oh, I think we can manage that, hmmn, Yuuri?” Viktor says. He looks across at Yuri and winks.

“Um,” says Yuuri.

“Speaking of,” Miss Okukawa says, “you two are absolutely _forbidden_ to kiss before dress rehearsal.”

“…UM?” says Yuuri again. Viktor just blinks in surprise. Miss Okukawa waves a hand.

“I meant in rehearsals,” she says, “although actually outside of rehearsals too…” she adds as an afterthought. This is getting far too mortifying for Yuuri to deal with. He puts his hands over his face, hopes the situation will just sort of magically dissolve into the void. Viktor laughs.

“Whatever you say, Miss O,” he says, “although I must confess I’m a little disappointed…” and then he winks again and it’s just all too much.

“Okay,” Yuuri says, and finds he’s standing, “I, um, have to go, my mum will be waiting…thanks again,” he stammers, all in a hurry. Miss Okukawa nods.

“No worries, Yuuri,” she says, “rehearsal schedules are posted online. First one is tomorrow at 6, ok?”

“Yoke,” says Yuuri, in what is probably some bizarre linguistic combination of various words of assent. He picks up his bag and hot foots it out of the door, but as he leaves he distinctly hears Viktor say: “Did I come on a bit too strong?” to Miss Okukawa in a slightly worried voice. Yuuri doesn’t stick around to hear her answer.

 

The line that his mum is waiting is a blatant lie. Yuuri always walks home, even though he lives about six kilometres away and it takes over an hour. When it’s raining he’ll take the bus, and in the mornings Mari drops him off, but on the whole he quite likes walking. He doesn’t enjoy it for the same reasons that he enjoys running or dancing or even acting – in those pursuits, he can escape himself, transcend his consciousness, as it were. But it’s the opposite with his meandering walks home – he can be with himself, in his own head.

He likes to use his walks home as a way to dissect the day, to sort out anything that may or may not have happened, to plan the next day. Today, though, he just wants to get home. The realities of being cast as Juliet are so large, so dazzling, so exciting and nerve-wracking and just a little bit unbelievable, that he can’t process it alone. He can’t wait to tell his family – but in the meantime, he calls Phichit.

They both yell congratulations at each other for several minutes before settling down into a slightly more civilised conversation. Slightly being the operative word. There’s still rather a lot of yelling.

When Yuuri tells Phichit about his conversation with Viktor and Miss Okukawa in the drama office, Phichit laughs until he’s wheezing.

“Damn, Yuuri,” he says, choking off into a little hiccup, “you’re so screwed! Like, this is so exciting, but you are _so screwed_.”

“I _know_ ,” Yuuri moans, quickly looking both ways as he darts across the street, “how am I going to survive?”

“I dunno, buddy,” Phichit says, “you’ll have me and Guang-Hong and Leo to laugh at you during rehearsals, but as for your quality time with Viiiiiik-tor, we can’t really help you there.”

“It’s sort of like I never woke up this morning,” Yuuri says, “and this is all just a dream, and I’ll wake up in a few seconds and find that it’s just been wishful thinking.”

“Don’t think like that,” Phichit says sternly, “you got Juliet because you _deserve_ it, and you’re going to be brilliant! And have fun! That’s the most important part! Yuuri, we’re going to have so much fun!”

This, as least, is definitely true. Yuuri has not been a part of production before, since it is bi-annual and he had other commitments which clashed in year ten, but he’s heard only good things. Apparently it’s a great experience – that’s not to say that he’s not worried that everyone will actually totally hate him (Phichit tells him he’s being an idiot when he voices these concerns, and his friend is probably right), but he’s relatively confident that it will be a good time. He just has to survive ten weeks of being in immensely close proximity to Viktor Nikiforov.

 

* * *

 

The next morning, Yuuri is greeted upon his (late) arrival to form class with a storm of congratulations. Everyone in his class, it seems, has discovered that he’ll be lead in production. Even the non-arty bunch offer him congratulations, which feels…pretty nice, actually.

“I’m so excited for you,” Guang-Hong says, as Yuuri fends off stoic congratulations from their form teacher, Coach Celestino.

“Thanks G,” Yuuri says, “I’m excited for me too. Which feels weird.”

“It shouldn’t feel weird,” Leo says – Yuuri gets the feeling that he’s about to be subjected to another of the regular ‘let’s motivate Yuuri!’ pep talks from his friends. But then his phone buzzes, and he pulls it out of his pocket. The message is from an unfamiliar number.

 

**+(642)73764629**

_Hi Yuuri!!!!! This is Viktor! I got your number off Minami in year eleven, hope you don’t min_ d :o

 

Yuuri stares at the text, looks up and stares at Phichit, looks back at the text, and then locks his phone. Immediately after he shakes himself and unlocks it again, trying desperately to think of how to reply. After a few anguished seconds in which he keeps his phone angled away from his friend’s noses, Yuuri finally thinks of something vaguely articulate to say.

 

**+(642)19366161**

_Hi Viktor, that’s fine :)_

 

Immediately he receives a reply:

 

**+(642)73764629**

_Ooh I’m glad you don’t mind haha I wondered if you’d find it a bit weird but then I was like hmmn nah better that I get your number so we can talk about r &j or whatever : - )_

 

Yuuri blinks down at the strangely long and articulate message and wonders how on earth to respond. Eventually he settles on:

 

**+(642)19366161**

_Oh yeah no worries good idea : )_

 

Leo finally succeeds in wresting his phone out of his grasp, and turns it around to show Guang-Hong and Phichit.

“Ooh, Yuuri!” Guang-Hong is sweetly excited.

Phichit just tells him off for being so taciturn, and saves Viktor’s contact as ‘<3 <3 <3 viktor <3 nikiforov <3 <3 <3’ before Yuuri can stop him.

 

**< 3 <3 <3 viktor <3 nikiforov <3 <3 <3**

_Haha good !!!! see you at rehearsal tonight Yuuri !!_

 

**+(642)19366161**

_Ok see you then :)_

 

“God damn, Yuuri,” Leo says, taking Yuuri’s phone and bopping him lightly on the head with it, “this is, like, your crush of four years you’re talking to. You could at least pretend like you want to talk to him!”

“But then I’ll sound too keen!” Yuuri wails.

“Um, you _are_ too keen,” Phichit says.

This embarrassing conversation is ended by the arrival of JJ. He invites himself to their table and folds his arms across the top of it, one arm extended towards Yuuri.

“Congratulations on Juliet,” he says. Yuuri is terrible at reading JJ – he can never tell is he’s being sarcastic, but he doubts that his caustic classmate is being sincere. All the same he shakes JJ’s hand and congratulates him in return on his role as Mercutio.

“It’s the perfect role for me,” JJ agrees. Behind his back, Leo raises his eyebrows slightly. Yuuri bites down hard on a laugh.

“I agree,” he says. The bell rings then and Yuuri and his friends leap to their feet, seizing their bags and disappearing in a swirl out of the door and in the direction of their various morning classes. They leave JJ to ponder the integrity of the compliment in peace.

Yuuri forgets about JJ quickly as his mind returns to the text from Viktor, though. He can’t stop thinking about it all day – about how Viktor very evidently made the effort to get his number, and about how strange and exciting it feels to have a tangible connection to him, and how Viktor made it seem like he really wanted to talk to him. Going from 0 to 100 feels like too much, way too soon, and Yuuri’s emotions are a mess…but all the same. He’s pretty damn happy.

 

* * *

 

That evening in the car on the way to rehearsal, Yuuri digs his fingers into his thighs the whole way to school and stares out of the window. Mari has never been one for chatter anyway – she sings along under her breath to the music on the radio, and doesn’t notice that Yuuri is finding it a little difficult to draw breath.

As it drew closer to 6 o’clock, Yuuri found himself getting more and more worried about rehearsal. He knows it’s irrational, but _knowing_ that all the students he’s about to spend two hours with don’t secretly hate him does absolutely nothing to dispel his anxiety.

They pull into the back parking lot and Mari stops the car. There are a few younger students walking into the arts building just ahead, but no one that Yuuri knows is in the carpark. He wonders if maybe he should have arrived a little later so that he wouldn’t feel so alone.

“Luck,” Mari says.

“Thanks,” Yuuri replies, “I’ll be fine…right?”

“You’ll love it,” Mari says, “eventually. It’ll be good for you.”

At this cheering prospect, Yuuri finally gets out of the car. Mari pulls away immediately. Right. Okay. He can do this. Absolutely nothing to worry about.

There are only a handful of people in the hall so far. A little cluster of juniors are lying in the middle of the floor. Miss Okukawa is talking to Mme. Baranovskaya over by the piano. Both teachers are clutching cups of tea, and Miss O is pointing out something on a piece of paper. Yuuri glances around – is there anyone he can sit with here yet?

Then he sees Chris, who is standing by the stage, looking at something on his phone. He has a choice between trying to talk to the juniors, who he doesn’t know, or Chris, who he kind of does.

As he makes his way across the room, Chris looks up and waves him over. Yuuri tries not to dwell on how ridiculous it is that he feels a rush of relief that Chris is actually acknowledging him.

“Hey, Yuuri,” Chris says, as soon as Yuuri is close enough, “how are you?”

“Fine,” noncommittally, “how are you?”

“Oh, fine, too,” Chris sighs, “I’ve had the _longest_ day – Seung-gil made me go for a _run_ with him this morning. I had to get up at _six_!” he shudders.

“Oh the horror,” Yuuri says sarcastically. Chris laughs.

“It really was! So I’ve been exhausted all day. Seung-gil says I’ll get used to it eventually,” Chris reaches behind his back, and pulls himself onto the stage so his knees are now parallel with Yuuri’s sternum.

“Oh, yeah,” Yuuri agrees, “you do get used to it.”

“I didn’t have you pegged for the 6am-running sort, Yuuri,” Chris says, peering down at Yuuri with heightened interest. Yuuri shrugs.

“I’m not really,” he says (he prefers running at night, but doesn’t think that Chris will want to hear this), “but I did used to have dance at six. You do get used to just rolling out of bed.”

“God,” Chris sighs, “I wish I didn’t have to get used to it!”

Whilst they’ve been chatting, a few more people have arrived, including Leo. Yuuri waves at him, and he starts stepping through the reclining juniors, who apologise and scramble out of his way. It’s pretty funny to watch.

“I like your friend,” Chris says contemplatively, “he’s cute.”

“I’ll tell him you said that,” Yuuri says.

“Oh, please do,”

“Hey Leo, Chris thinks you’re cute!”

“Thanks,” Leo says. He pulls himself up on the stage too, on the other side of Yuuri. It feels a bit odd, having them both elevated on either side of his head, so he scrabbles to pull himself up beside them. For a moment, he worries that he’s not going to make it, which would be _super_ embarrassing – but then Leo heaves on his arm, and his butt slithers over the edge.

Gradually, the hall begins to fill. As the other principal cast members arrive, they approach the stage where Yuuri, Chris and Leo are sitting. Yuuri feels a lot more relaxed now that he’s here and sitting right in the middle of a circle of people who are behaving as if this is his rightful place. Which – technically it is. He is one of the leads after all.

Speaking of…

“Where’s Viktor?” Yuuri asks the group at large. Everyone just shrugs.

“He’ll turn up,” Otabek says, which is the only answer Yuuri receives. At that moment, Miss Okukawa glances at the clock, and then moves from the piano to stand in front of the assembled students.

“Alright, everyone,” she calls. The hall slowly lapses into silence, as excited students turn their attention towards her, “we’re just going to do a quick roll, and then get started.”

Naturally, Viktor’s name is the first called. Miss Okukawa doesn’t seem surprised that he’s late – she just sighs resignedly.

“I had hoped,” she says conversationally to Chris, who is right beside her, “that being a year thirteen might have made him a little more punctual.”

“Pipe dream I’m afraid,” Chris sighs. Miss Okukawa rolls her eyes.

It is not until the roll is almost over that Viktor turns up. He strides confidently in the door, a cardboard cup of coffee from Starbucks in his hand. He hasn’t bothered to take his round mirrored sunglasses off.

“Sorry I’m late,” he calls breezily, as everyone turns to stare at him, “I needed to stop for this!”

“Did you, Viktor?” Georgi deadpans, “did you _really_? Was it a _need_?”

“You know it was, Georgi,” Viktor says sunnily as he walks up the length of the room.

“Is that from Starbucks?” Chris asks, “Viktor, that’s not even on the way from your house!”

“Shush,” Viktor says. He has reached the front of the hall and is now close enough to pat his hand against Chris’ lips to quiet him. He hits Chris in the knee until his friend moves over, then takes his sunglasses off and smiles.

“Hey Yuuri,” he says with a wink.

“Um,” says Yuuri.

“Viktor, seriously,” Miss Okukawa says. Viktor turns to look at her. She’s frowning, but Yuuri is fairly sure he can detect a faint twitch of amusement at the corner of her mouth, “don’t be an annoying disruption. Sit down, shut up, and don’t be late again.”

“Yes, Miss O,” Viktor says, with a completely insincere smile that has Chris sniggering into his shoulder, and even Yuuri chewing at his own lips to keep from smiling.

Viktor heaves himself up to sit between Yuuri and Chris, and props himself up with one arm stretched out behind Yuuri’s back. He holds his coffee with his other hand, and gives Miss O his undivided attention.

Yuuri cannot say he is offering her the same. He is hyperaware of Viktor next to him, _very_ conscious of the arm stretched out alarmingly close to the base of his spine, of the fact that Viktor is close enough for Yuuri to be able to smell him…he tears his attention away with great difficulty as Miss O instructs them all to spread out.

She walks the entire cast around the room, pointing out entrances and exits for various scenes as they begin a rapid read through. Even here, Yuuri cannot escape from the somewhat intoxicating presence of Viktor – he tries to make a beeline for Phichit, Leo and Guang-Hong to get away from him, but this time it is Kenjiro Minami from year eleven who gets in his way.

Usually referred to by surname only, Minami is pint sized, with blond hair that has been dyed over the summer to sport a wide scarlet streak.

“Hey Yuuri,” he stage-whispers.

“Er, hey Minami,” Yuuri says. Minami blinks.

“Oh,” he says, “I didn’t know you knew my name!’

Yuuri is disconcertingly reminded of his own moment with Viktor only the day before, when he had been amazed that Viktor knew his name. He realises now how embarrassing that little moment was, and fights off a rising blush.

“Of course I know your name, Minami,” he says awkwardly, “did you want something?”

“Oh, no,” Minami says, “I just wanted to congratulate you on getting Juliet! I knew you would because you’re totally brilliant, but I didn’t get the chance before now to congratulate you and –“

“Boys!” Miss O says, and snaps her fingers at them. Minami blushes and shuts up. Yuuri glances askance at him, but before he can say anything he is called to attention by Miss O. It is time for he and Viktor to block their first scene together.

They are directed this way and that. Miss O explains to them the ideas that she has for the scene. It is something like intoxicating to be standing on the stage now. It is bare still, the bones of it marked only by white gaffer tape. It is hard to image how it will be – but all the same. He is here, he is in this production, and all of a sudden he is struck by a wave of joy. He glances across at Viktor, smiling widely without event thinking about it. Viktor is looking at him, smiling too, and Yuuri knows he is thinking the same thing.

 

The rehearsal continues in the same generally confusing way. Everything is obviously so rough and unpolished, but Yuuri can already see the beginnings of what it will become. What he cannot see, however, is Viktor skipping towards him as they near the end of the practise.

 “Yuuri!” Viktor announcing his presence at top volume is all the warning that Yuuri has. Yuuri glances to his right, and sees Viktor take a running jump.

Yuuri isn’t anticipating it, and doesn’t raise his arms in time. Viktor spins against his shoulder, and then crashes to the floor. Yuuri tries to catch him, but it’s too little too late – all he can do is snag his fingers on Viktor’s shirt. The momentum of Viktor’s fall pulls him downwards too, and Yuuri lands of top of him.

At first, it’s really quite painful. Viktor is relatively solid for a slim guy, but he still has bones, and Yuuri lands hard on Viktor’s hip. Admittedly this probably hurts Viktor a lot more than it hurts Yuuri –  he gasps at the impact.

Yuuri wasn’t expecting the fall, and his breath has been knocked out of him, so he just sort of…lies on top of Viktor for a few seconds. Viktor doesn’t move either – he just takes a few deep breaths.

“Sorry,” Yuuri says when he gets the oxygen, “I’m –” but then he stops talking. His nose is level with Viktor’s chest, and when he glances up at the other boy’s face, he finds that Viktor is staring down at him. His pale cheeks are slightly flushed, and there’s a funny look on his face – his mouth is open a little, and there’s something in his bluebottle eyes...

“Uh,” he says. In a mad and very awkward scramble, Yuuri rolls off of him and collapses on his back on the floor. Georgi’s face appears above him, grinning, and Yuuri accepts his offered hand. He finds he’s still a little out of breath, but holds out his hand to help Viktor up. Viktor stares at his hand for just a second before accepting.

Yuuri tugs him upright, but Viktor’s equilibrium hasn’t quite adjusted yet and he stumbles into Yuuri again. Instinctively, Yuuri circles his arm around Viktor’s waist to keep him upright.

“Sorry again,” he says, “I really didn’t mean to drop you.”

“It’s okay, Yuuri,” Viktor says, and although Viktor doesn’t make any move to pull away, Yuuri drops his hand and removes his arm from around his waist, stepping back quickly so that Viktor won’t think he’s trying something. Viktor frowns slowly as Yuuri moves away.

“It was my fault,” he says then, and his frown is gone, replaced with a slightly sheepish grin, “I forget you don’t know me well enough yet! All my other friends are used me throwing myself at them all the time – I forgot that you wouldn’t be prepared to catch me at a moment’s notice!” he winks at Yuuri, and whatever strange wobbly moment has just happened passes.

“Yes,” Georgi says darkly from where he’s still standing next to Yuuri, “you hang around Viktor for five minutes, you get used to him being a total prick.”

“Don’t be rude, Georgi,” Viktor says mildly, “you love it really.”

“Ugh,” says Georgi.

Viktor responds to this by launching himself at his classmate – Georgi catches him automatically. This does very little to make Yuuri feel any better, since evidently Viktor wasn’t just saying it – his friends really are used to catching him at a moment’s notice. Viktor seems to read his mind though, and writhes away from Georgi to come and wrap his arms around Yuuri’s shoulders.

“It’s okay, Yuuri,” he says again, “you’ll get used to me soon, I promise.”

This being said seductively in Yuuri’s ear does absolutely nothing to help dispel the lingering sensation of Viktor’s body pressed against his. Maybe it’s the hormones that make him say what he says next.

“I look forward to it,” Yuuri says as he puts his arm cautiously around Viktor’s waist again. Viktor turns and faces him with a look that starts with surprise and morphs into delight.

“Yuuri!” he says, “Wow! That was sexy!”

“Shut _up_ ,” Yuuri says, looking deliberately away.

Viktor just laughs, and tugs him closer for a second before letting go.

 

* * *

 

The next afternoon, Miss Okukawa storms into Yuuri’s drama class in a flurry of papers and anger.

“The board of trustees are idiots,” she tells the students, who all nod sagely and agree. With a sigh, she chucks the papers down on the floor and pulls up a chair.

“Those are your scripts by the way,” she tells them.

“Why are the BoT idiots?” Leo asks her as he picks up the papers and passes them around.

“This time, they’re dragging their feet about the content of R&J,” she sighs.

“It’s a 500-year-old play,” Evan says, “what is there to drag ass about?”

“You’d be surprised,” Miss Okukawa tells him dryly. Evan is one of the handful of senior drama students not in the production, because he’s involved with one of the local Operatic shows, so isn’t as aware of the production and what it entails. Yuuri, however, knows exactly what she’s talking about.

“What did they say?” he asks. Miss Okukawa rolls her eyes.

“Just the usual sh – er, nonsense about the ‘image of the school’. I argued that it actually promotes the image of the school as being a temple of tolerance that doesn’t bend to traditional prejudices, but God only knows if I’m right about that.”

“They won’t cancel it, will they?” Guang-Hong asks worriedly. Miss O shakes her head firmly.

“No, definitely not,” she assures him, “it’s still going ahead. They’re just blowing off steam.”

“So will Yuuri be allowed to kiss Viktor onstage?” Phichit asks. Yuuri covers his face as Miss O laughs.

“Don’t worry, Yuuri,” she says, “there will definitely be kissing if I have anything to say about it!”

Seeing as she is the director, she is assured of having something to say about it. Yuuri is over his panic about kissing Viktor now, but it still makes him feel nervous – he just doesn’t know if the twisting feeling in his stomach is anxiety, or anticipation.

 

* * *

 

Rehearsal is not going well. They are three weeks in, and most people haven’t learned their lines. There are scripts lying all over the floor in varying states of disrepair. This is not on its own an issue – they still have three weeks to go before scripts down, it’s fine. In Yuuri’s case, though, it’s just adding insult to injury.

His head is not in the game today. He had a terrible night’s sleep, he’s not doing well on his ongoing English assignment, and he feels tetchy and irascible. Even the perpetual good moods of Viktor, Phichit and Chris do nothing to cheer him up. In the end Otabek takes pity on him, and invites him to go and run lines in the corner. Yuuri gets every single one of his wrong. Otabek watches Yuuri’s ongoing meltdown with steadily rising eyebrows. Finally, he picks up his script and taps Yuuri on the head with it.

“Pull yourself together,” he says, “we’re only on the fifth rehearsal.”

“I’m a mess,” Yuuri sighs, and buries his head in his hands.

“Yeah I can see that,” Otabek huffs, “why?”

“Just life in general,” Yuuri sighs. Otabek laughs at this – or at least as close as he comes to laughing, which is sort of smirky exhalation. He really is perfect for the Prince, Yuuri muses – sort of tall and dark and brooding and fierce, with a very powerful speaking voice when he puts his mind to it. Typecasting? Maybe, but he’s definitely the best for the role. He’s also a very calming person to be around, and Yuuri starts to relax – just a little.

It does not last, however, as in the second half of rehearsal the time has come to begin blocking the ball scene. They have been working on smaller scenes so far, because the blocking of such a large scene is in reality something of a headache for everyone involved. The principal cast involved in the scene gather loosely at the front of the hall, and survey the goings on with trepidation. Yuuri stands next to Viktor, who has his arms loosely folded across his chest and is watching everything closely.

“I can see it how it ought to look,” he says conversationally to Yuuri, “but it’s a bit of a mess right now.”

“Well, yeah,” Seung-gil says, before Yuuri can think up a vaguely intellectual sounding response, “that’s because they’ve been blocking it for all of ten minutes, dumbass.”

“You wound me, Seung-gil,” Viktor says. The two get into a gentle scuffle and are then yelled at by Miss Okukawa. She calls Guang-Hong, Mickey, Phichit and Yuuri over first to try and slot them into the goings on. The Capulet family will descend first to the traverse stage to a musical fanfare. Yuuri doesn’t see the point of even bothering with character so early in the rehearsal schedule – or at least, he _does_ , but just can’t quite do it. Phichit is beginning to work on his walk – it’s a bit ridiculous, and he nearly falls over, to general amusement.

Viktor and his band of merry men enter from the other end. Mme. Baranovskaya prods various chorus members around to try and get them in position for the dance that they will all be learning later. Mickey delivers his lines half from memory, and half from squinting at the script in his hands. He, too, is partially in character, exaggerating his own Italian accent and waving his non-script-holding hand around, slightly excessively. Viktor doesn’t bother reciting his lines from memory, he just reads from the script – but he seems to be fully in character.

Yuuri privately thinks that Viktor’s personality may not be quite so different from Romeo’s, but his mannerisms and his voice are entirely different. He just _transforms_ when he’s onstage, even if it’s just a blocking rehearsal. Yuuri is jealous of his skill – and not a little intimidated.

This does not help matters, when he and Viktor have been directed around the room and at last in the general direction of each other. Yuuri is ashamed to be so utterly _himself_ against Viktor’s vibrant Romeo. So he blushes and stammers and delivers his lines far too quietly, and Viktor is patient but Miss Okukawa is not. She stops the entire scene to ask him what his problem is.

“I probably just need Otabek to come and hit me again,” he says, in a feeble attempt at a quip that nevertheless makes everyone laugh. Otabek brandishes his script with mock menace from the corner in which he is still looking over his lines. Yuuri gives him a feeble thumbs-up.

“It’s okay Yuuri,” Viktor says to him with a laugh. He pushes his hair back out of his eyes and shrugs, “you have lots of time to get good at it.”

“Yeah, well,” Yuuri says. He knows this. He is deeply unhappy about it. “We can’t all be as good as you.”

“You’re actually much more mediocre than you think,” Viktor says, like he doesn’t have any idea that his words might be hurtful – or like he doesn’t care, “but it’s okay!” he continues brightly, “because like I said, you have lots of time to practise and get better!”

“Um,” says Yuuri, “thanks? I guess?”

“You’re welcome,” Viktor says, and finally lets his attention be diverted by Miss Okukawa, who had been yelling his name for the last thirty seconds or so in an increasingly pissed-off tone of voice.

“Did you hear that?” Yuuri turns to Phichit, who has been making most of the unblocking of social media on school Wi-Fi after 7pm to scroll through his Instagram feed.

“Hear what?” Phichit asks.

“Viktor literally just called me mediocre,” Yuuri says. He’s still glowering after the silver-haired boy, who has by now been directed away to reset the scene.

“Oh. That’s – why?” Phichit glowers at Viktor’s back too, which is a gesture Yuuri appreciates.

“Because I keep screwing up, I think,” Yuuri says, “I kind of don’t know. It was random.”

“I know he’s pretty much a god, and all,” Phichit says thoughtfully, “but calling you mediocre is a bit much.”

“I know!” Yuuri agrees emphatically. He finds that, although he’s a little hurt, his anger is far stronger. The bruised portion of his ego is urging him to figuratively curl up in a corner and cry, but he’s _way_ too annoyed now to give in to the urge.

“I’ll show him,” Yuuri mumbles to himself.

“Yeah?” Phichit looks askance at him, and grins. “Show him _up_ , Yuuri!”

 

* * *

 

When Yuuri gets home from practise that evening, he shuts himself in his bedroom and starts to pace. He has his script in his hand to look at when he needs to double check his lines, but he uses it less and less as he runs his scenes over and over. As he strides around the room, he thinks about character, thinks about various ways in which he could deliver his lines. Slowly, he begins to understand what Viktor might have meant.

Sure, he handled it like a douche, but Yuuri can see where he’s coming from. Even when Yuuri _has_ been inclined to try out bits of character at rehearsals, he has been making Juliet far too much like himself, rather than making himself into Juliet. He supposes that Viktor has been watching him act, which is…not something that he really wants to dwell on, because he doesn’t know how he feels about it.

He’s been taking drama for long enough to know that there needs to be a firm dissonance between character and self. He pauses in front of the mirror, and tips his head to the side. Straightens his back a little. Yeah…he can see it now. See the way Juliet needs to move – less shyly, more lithely. The way he needs to soften his shoulders, his mouth, his voice, the intent behind his lines…Juliet may be nervous, and young, but not in the way that Yuuri is. He needs to bring this to rehearsals from now on, to show not only Viktor but everyone else too that he deserves being cast.

His mother comes into his room at midnight, dressed for bed. Yuuri is still standing in front of the mirror. He has headphones on, and has stripped down to leggings and an undershirt. He’s turning from side to side, stepping back and forth on the balls of his feet as he dances. He’s whispering lines to himself as he moves, repeating steps and lines over and over. He suddenly notices his mother in the doorway and jumps violently.

“Mum!” he yelps, pulling out his earbuds sharply, “how long have you been there?”

“Only a minute. You’re practising?” his mother asks him, somewhat redundantly. He nods, abashed.

“It looks good, Yuuri,” she says. Yuuri knows that she’s only saying that because she’s his mother, and therefore thinks that everything he does is wonderful. But he still glows at the praise.

“Thanks Mum,” he says, “I want to be _really_ good.”

“You already are, honey,” she tells him, “but it’s after midnight, and you have school tomorrow. Go to bed.”

“Oh? Huh?” Yuuri pulls his phone out of his pocket, and blinks, “I didn’t even notice.”

“I figured,” his mother comes into the room to hug him goodnight, like she used to do when he was a young boy. It makes him feel a little bit more like himself – because that’s the problem with getting sucked into a character. Sometimes it can be hard to find yourself again.

He tries not to think about Juliet when he’s lying in bed trying to sleep. His brain helpfully supplies images of Viktor instead. Viktor, coming up to him in the hallway at school, Viktor arriving at rehearsal late with sunglasses on, Viktor tying up his hair… this is equally as distracting, if in a slightly different way.

“Shut up, brain,” Yuuri says grumpily into the darkness, and rolls over with a huff.

 

* * *

 

He wakes up the next morning feeling like he’s had about -3 hours of sleep. On the plus side, he’s buzzing with ideas about Juliet. His brain has helpfully supplied the information (from God knows where) that Viktor used to dance, and Yuuri wonders if maybe Viktor would be amenable to making their characters a lot more…physical. It’s a bold idea, and one that Yuuri isn’t sure that he’s entirely comfortable with himself, but he _needs_ to prove Viktor wrong. Needs to prove to everyone that he’s worthy of the role, worthy of acting alongside Viktor.

He broaches the idea to his friends at lunch. They’re hanging out in their usual spot by the fire escape, and Yuuri finds himself unconsciously demonstrating his ideas.

“I thought that maybe – if Viktor wanted to – we could make it more like, you know,” he turns his feet out, lifts his arm, “and then…hmmn.”

“Yuuri,” Leo says, “are you talking to us, or to Viktor?”

“What?”

“You should tell Viktor your ideas,” Guang-Hong says, “because I really like hearing them Yuuri, but I’m sure Viktor would like to hear them even more!”

“Yeah,” Phichit says, “you’re going all out to show him you’re not mediocre, so go and, y’know, _show_ him.”

“I’m not only going all out for Viktor,” Yuuri says. He slumps back against the wall with a sigh, “he was right, anyway. Viktor’s the...the trigger?”

“Okay,” Phichit says with a shrug. He leans back on his hands and squints up at Yuuri, “you should still go and tell him though.”

“I guess I can text him…” Yuuri says. His hand slips into his pocket, fingers curling around his phone. But then he drops it.

“Nah. Viktor doesn’t want me to bother him with stuff like this.”

“I dunno,” Guang-Hong shrugs, and takes another bite of his wrap, “I think he’d be pretty into it. He did give you his number so you could talk to him about R&J stuff, remember?”

“I can text him for you, if you like,” Phichit offers.

“If I give you my phone, you’ll add way too many kisses and winky faces!” Yuuri says firmly.

“True,” Phichit concedes.

“Aah!” Yuuri pulls his phone out of his pocket and tosses it into Leo’s lap, “you text him for me, Leo! I can’t do it!”

“Your crush on him is so adorable,” Guang-Hong says fondly.

“Shut up,” Yuuri mumbles into the hands he has clapped over his face, “it’s awful! It was bad enough when I drooled over him from afar, but now it’s actually _painful_.”

“Only because he’s drooling back at you,” Phichit says chirpily. Leo, Guang-Hong and Yuuri all stare at him.

“What?”

“Don’t torture me, Phichit,” Yuuri moans, “Leo, what did you say?”

“I just said ‘ _Hi Viktor, had some ideas about R &J, can I talk to you about them sometime?’_ Leo says, and then “Ooh, he replied!”

“Give it,” Yuuri yelps, and snatches his phone back from a snickering Leo.

 

**Viktor**

_Yes of course Yuuri!! I’m free right now if you want? :-)_

“Argh,” Yuuri locks his phone and presses it to his forehead, like he’s asking for deliverance or something, “he says he’s free right now?”

“Go go go!” Phichit urges.

“Oh God,” Yuuri sighs as he replies:

 

**+(642)19366161**

_Ok. Where r u?_

 

“What are you ‘Oh God’ding about?” Phichit snickers. He finishes unpeeling his boiled egg, and then shoves it into his mouth whole, “Yew shnow oo ant ee em.”

“Sorry, what was that?” Leo elbows Phichit in the ribs, “you heathen.”

“Is eed,” Phichit swallows with some difficulty, “you know you want to see him!”

“That’s the problem,” Yuuri sighs, “I’m in way too deep. It’s hell. Can I have your other egg?”

Phichit throws it at his head. Yuuri carefully unpeels it before he dares to look at his phone again. Sure enough, Viktor has replied:

 

**Viktor**

_I’m just sitting by the costume room!!!_

“He uses a lot of exclamation marks,” Guang-Hong observes. He is reading over Yuuri’s shoulder.

“Ack,” Yuuri says, and replies:

 

**+(642)19366161**

_omw_

 

“Wish me luck!”

“Luck,” Phichit calls as Yuuri heads towards the design block, and accompanies this with a wave of his half-eaten stick of celery in a mock salute.

 

Viktor, as it turns out, is alone. He’s sitting halfway down the stairs, eating a sandwich and playing a game on his phone. Yuuri hesitates at the bottom of the stairs, because Viktor doesn’t seem to have noticed him.

“Um,” he says, after an awkward second. Viktor looks up and smiles.

“Yuuri!” he says sunnily, “come, sit here.” He pats the stair next to him. Yuuri sits down. Viktor immediately slides sideways and pivots his body around so that he’s leaning against the rail and facing Yuuri.

“Tell me your ideas,” he says.

“Well…” Yuuri begins. He feels a little awkward, because in a way he’s still intimidated by Viktor – although in this case, he doesn’t know if he fears Viktor’s judgement of his idea, or of him. Either way, it makes him nervous.

“Yesterday at practise you told me I was mediocre…” he begins. Viktor frowns.

“I did?”

“What – you don’t remember?”

“No, I don’t. Sorry,” a quick grimace flickers across Viktor’s face, and he shrugs, “I talk a lot. Sometimes I forget the specifics of what I say.”

“Ah. Well. I guess it doesn’t matter, because you were right. I went home and I thought a bit, and…um…can I just show you?”

 “Okay,” Viktor says. He puts his sandwich down next to him and folds his hands across his knees, giving Yuuri his full attention. Yuuri finds it a little unnerving, having those bright blue eyes pinned on his face like that. But he can’t look away. He stands up and steps back to the bottom of the stairs.

“You used to dance, right?” he checks with Viktor, who nods.

“Right. Well. We could incorporate – wait, no, I need to demonstrate it _with_ you. Stand up,” Yuuri hesitates for a fraction of a second, and then holds his hands out towards Viktor. Viktor lets himself be pulled to standing, and Yuuri shuffles back a few steps so they have more space.

“So I was thinking,” Yuuri says, “of – you know that ball scene? Since we’re doing such a liberal translation of the play anyway, we could make it even more metaphorical, right? Like, say each family has a different dance or movement style, right?”

Viktor nods.

“But then there’s some element between the two of us that’s consistent,” Yuuri continues, “like – much more dance-like, I suppose?”

“Okay,” Viktor says again. His eyes are sparkling, and he nods eagerly, “so that when they meet – or before they meet, even, there’s a common element that draws them to each other?”

“Exactly!” Yuuri suddenly realises that he’s still holding Viktor’s hands, and drops them. Viktor blinks, and for a quick second his eyes flick down to his still outstretched palms.

“I was thinking of moving more like this for Juliet,” Yuuri explains, and pulls himself up, softens his movements, steps long and slow as he moves in a circle. Viktor watches him, and smiles.

“And…and for the ball scene,” Yuuri takes a deep breath in through his nose, and steels his nerves. “This is what I was thinking. Will you –“ he holds his hands out towards Viktor again.

“Of course,” Viktor agrees without hesitating.

It feels awkward at first – no, it _is_ a little awkward, physically at least. Viktor isn’t psychic, and so he and Yuuri bump knees and elbows and very nearly faces as Yuuri tries to lead them through the routine that he woke up thinking about. He tries hard to make it feel impersonal, to make it feel more like Romeo and Juliet as opposed to Yuuri and Viktor, but all the same – touching Viktor’s face, holding his waist in a mock lift – Yuuri is _very_ aware that it’s Viktor he’s dancing with. But to his eternal credit, Viktor doesn’t break character or laugh or even apologise when he bumps into Yuuri – he just lets Yuuri lead him, until Yuuri’s hands drop back down to his sides and he shrugs.

“That’s just kind of what I was thinking,” he says, “I know it can use a lot of work.”

He might be blushing – he can’t tell. Part of his mind is freaking out about the fact that he maybe accidentally-on-purpose touched Viktor’s butt, and the other part of his mind is…very satisfied. Viktor rests his hands on his own hips and frowns slightly, but he’s nodding.

“Yeah,” he says, “yeah, Yuuri, it works really well! It might have been better if you’d warned me in advance of the moves you were about to do,” here he grins conspiratorially at Yuuri, “but I liked it a lot! Maybe for the bits that come before it, we can do our own dances with themes, like…” he pauses for a second, and then tries out a few tentative moves of his own – over dramatic and sweeping, a lot of strong arm movements with a mournful expression on his face (which cracks into a grin when he sees Yuuri trying not to laugh). He drops back onto his heels, and shrugs.

“It fits though, right?” he says, biting back a giggle of his own, “poor depressed Romeo, totally emo because Rosaline won’t suck him off…”

Yuuri chokes on his own spit. Viktor presses a finger to his mouth, and raises his eyebrows.

“You could always do that, you know,” he says, and then his eyes widen slightly, “not – wait. I meant, I _meant_ ,” he emphasises, because Yuuri’s brain is going haywire as he tries _very_ hard not to think in too much detail about what Viktor just accidentally suggested. He is trying so hard not to choke that he barely notices Viktor is blushing too.

“Shut _up_ Yuuri,” Viktor says, even though Yuuri hasn’t said anything, “I just meant that for Juliet’s dance, it could be quite…sexual. Juliet is the beautiful woman who seduces Romeo the playboy. But shown through dance.”

Kudos to Viktor for trying, Yuuri concedes.

“I... yeah,” Yuuri says, accepting Viktor’s direction of the topic of conversation, “I can try? I don’t know that I’d make a very good beautiful woman, but I guess…I’ll see what I can do?”

“Yuuri,” Viktor says, “you’re _literally_ playing Juliet. Her character description _is_ ‘beautiful woman’.”

“…ah. Yes. This is true,” Yuuri agrees, somewhat belatedly. Viktor snorts, and folds his arms across his chest as he arches his back in a stretch.

“Anyway,” he says, “it’s a really good idea, and we should definitely talk to Miss O about it. I’m sure she’ll love it!” he smiles at Yuuri as he says this, letting Yuuri know that _he_ loves it too. Yuuri smiles back, a little shyly. He is very glad now that he took Guang-Hong’s advice to bite the bullet and approach Viktor about the idea. They smile at each other for a beat too long. Viktor is the first to look away – he suddenly spins around and grabs his sandwich, turning back to face Yuuri with it clutched in front of him in both hands.

“Uh,” he says, and then pauses.

“I should probably, uh, go,” Yuuri says a little awkwardly.

“Oh. Mmn,” Viktor says, and then smiles again. This one blooms across his face like a flower turning to the sunlight, and Yuuri is utterly captivated, “thanks for showing me your idea Yuuri.”

“Uh. You’re welcome?” Yuuri tries. Viktor scrunches up one shoulder and rests his head against in briefly in acknowledgement. It’s a sweet little gesture. Yuuri decides to leave immediately, before he breaks down and flings himself at Viktor like he wants so badly to do.

“See you at rehearsal tomorrow, Yuuri!” Viktor calls after him. Yuuri glances over his shoulder and waves. Viktor waves his sandwich back. Yuuri gets all the way to the door before he suddenly realises something.

“Hey…Viktor,” he says as he turns back. Viktor is sitting again, and looks up at him.

“Yeah?”

“Why are you sitting by yourself?”

“I…ha,” Viktor tugs at the plastic wrap on his sandwich a little awkwardly, “I just felt like some space, that’s all.”

“Oh, sorry,” Yuuri frowns, “I wouldn’t have bothered you if I’d known you wanted to be alone!”

“No, it’s okay,” Viktor assures him, “I’m glad you did! Maybe I didn’t feel like being alone after all?” He says it like it’s a question. Yuuri wants so badly to invite Viktor to come and sit with him and his friends, wants to just sit down beside Viktor even, wants to just _be_ in Viktor’s presence.

“Oh,” Yuuri says, stupidly, opens his mouth to – to what? To invite his crush to lunch? But then he’s hesitated too long and oh God he just looks like an idiot now, abort abort abort.

“I, um, I have to go,” Yuuri says awkwardly.

“Oh. Yeah,” Viktor shrugs, “I guess I should go and find my friends, right?”

“Um. I guess? See you later!” Yuuri blurts, and then he all but runs away. He literally turns and crashes through the doorway. He deliberately doesn’t look back. Hates himself just a little too much for even daring to hope that Viktor might be staring after him.

 

* * *

 

“Viktor’s been acting kind of weird lately,” Seung-gil says. He and Yuuri are watching Viktor, JJ and Georgi run their scene at rehearsal the following day. Seung-gil is observing the action with his usual placid expression, and not even looking at Yuuri as he speaks.

“Weird how?” Yuuri asks him. Seung-gil shrugs one shoulder.

“Well, you know. He disappeared at lunch yesterday for a while with no explanation. He was texting all lunch time and then he just left.”

“…oh,” says Yuuri, because that…doesn’t quite match up with what Viktor had told him.

“I thought…oh. Never mind.”

“What were you going to say?” Seung-gil finally turns his head to look at him, “you can’t just start saying something that might be potentially interesting, and then stop halfway through.”

“Um,” Yuuri says. He thinks he might be blushing, and wills the colour in his cheeks to go down, “well, it’s just that I met up with Viktor at lunch yesterday to show him something. You know, for this,” he waves a hand around the hall.

“Oh _really_?” Seung-gil asks, “that _is_ interesting.”

“Don’t just say ‘that is interesting’ in such a vague way. It’s a bit menacing.”

“Oh, you know,” Seung-gil smirks, which from him is the equivalent of a belly laugh, “I just think it’s _interesting_ that Viktor mysteriously disappeared at lunch time to hang out with you.”

“We didn’t really _hang out_ ,” Yuuri hastens to elaborate, “we just danced. A bit.”

“Sorry, I amend my previous statement – Viktor ditched us at lunch to dance with you.”

“…okay, I know how it sounds,” Yuuri says. He’s definitely blushing now. Seung-gil surveys him with an eyebrow raised.

“It’s not a bad thing,” Seung-gil says cryptically. He won’t elaborate when Yuuri asks him to, merely looks thoughtfully at Viktor, who is all the way on the other side of the hall talking to Mme. Baranovskaya. Yuuri doesn’t know how he feels about learning that Viktor literally left his friends at lunch time for the sole purpose of seeing him, knows even less how to process the news that Viktor wasn’t entirely honest with anyone about it.

He is saved the conundrum of having to deal with it by Miss Okukawa, who commands that he go and run lines with Phichit in the foyer. This is a productive endeavour for all of ten minutes.

“Hey, you’ll never guess what Seung-gil just told me,” Yuuri announces as he throws his script onto the stairs. A burden shared is a burden halved, or something.

“Gossip?” Phichit asks, “do tell me more.”

“Well, it’s about Viktor,”

“Obviously,”

“Ha ha. No. You know I told you that Viktor was sitting by himself, and he said that he just felt like being alone?”

Phichit makes a noise of assent as he leans over the bannister to peer down at Yuuri.

“Well – Seung-gil said that he had been sitting with them all, but then he just left and he didn’t say why…”

“Ooh,” Phichit says, “that _is_ interesting!” his eyes are sparkling, and he gives Yuuri a Look.

“That’s exactly what Seung-gil said,” Yuuri asks darkly, “I know that look, Phichit,”

“Yuuri, Viktor _totally_ likes you!” Phichit is far too excited for his own good. He starts bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet, and Yuuri is fairly sure that he’ll actually start clapping his hands together soon.

“What? No he doesn’t,” Yuuri says quickly, “Phichit, Viktor is…why would he like me?”

“Yuuri,” Phichit says seriously. He drops to his feet and pins Yuuri with a glare, “you _have_ to stop being so down on yourself all the time. I can think of a thousand reasons why Viktor would like you, and clearly so can he! He literally blew off his friends for the chance to hang out with you. That’s something only people who have crushes on other people do!”

“Oh, _God_ ,” Yuuri buries his face in his hands. Phichit leans over and pats him on the head.

“Well, I think it’s exciting,” he says, “you need a boyfriend. Viktor is perfect!”

“I’m not going to date him,” Yuuri says into his hands, “not now I’m not, anyway!”

“…why? Yuuri, what did you do?”

“Um, well,” Yuuri looks up, grimaces, “I sort of ran away yesterday? He was all ‘I dunno maybe I don’t feel like being alone’ and I said ‘oh I have to go’ and ran away!”

“Yuuri!” Phichit stops patting him on the head and smacks him instead, “you probably broke his heart!”

“Okay, I doubt that,” Yuuri says, “I really don’t think he likes me like that.”

“At the very least,” Phichit says, “he has a friend crush on you. Either way, you pretty much ripped his heart out and stood on it!” Phichit sounds way too gleeful about this. Yuuri glares at him.

“Don’t be so overdramatic,” he says. Phichit snorts.

“I’m not _over_ dramatic,” he says, “I’m only, like…the normal level of dramatic.”

“Yeah, and I’m a flying pig,” Yuuri snorts.

 

But he’s still thinking about it as he walks home after rehearsal that evening. His brain just won’t let it go. He knows that Viktor can’t possibly actually have a crush on him, but either way he feels terrible about running away from him. It was rude of him, and the guilt is starting to eat at him. He doesn’t want Viktor to think badly of him…argh!

There’s a beep from behind him. Yuuri jumps, and then glances at the road. A silver Suzuki Swift is indicating out of traffic, and pulling up beside him. For a second Yuuri stares – is the car trying to go down the driveway? – but then it’s close enough for him to see who’s driving.

“Hey!” It’s Viktor. He rolls down the passenger window, and leans across the seat, his fingers resting on the door handle. “Yuuri! Do you want a ride?”

For a moment, Yuuri considers saying no. His mouth is already open, the words half formed, before his brain catches up with his impulse. He can’t refuse Viktor now, not when he’s been stewing over him for the last half hour!

Viktor senses his hesitation, and flicks the door handle so it opens.

“Come on,” he says.

“Okay,” Yuuri agrees.

“Chuck your bag in the back,” Viktor says as Yuuri opens the door. He’s tugging his sweater back up where it’s dropped off his shoulder. Carefully Yuuri tosses his satchel into the back seat (“Ignore the mess, I’m so bad at cleaning!”), and then pulls the door shut behind him.

“I thought you were going to blow me off again,” Viktor says, with the light and easy grin that he seems to have permanently ready to draw across his face.

“Oh,” Yuuri says awkwardly, “I’m sorry. About – yesterday. I feel really bad about it.”

“It’s alright,” Viktor forgives easily. He flicks the indicator on and glances over his right shoulder, before pulling back out onto the road with a little too much speed. Yuuri jerks back in his seat.

“Sorry,” Viktor apologises again, “I’m still not used to driving this car!”

“Oh…is it new?”

“New to me,” Viktor says, “do you have a car? Oh, where do you live by the way?”

He asks it so casually – where do you live? – but in a way Yuuri thinks it’s strangely personal. It isn’t, of course – heaps of people know where he lives. It’s just an address. But having _Viktor_ know where he lives, having _Viktor_ drive him home and know what his house looks like…it’s a weird feeling. But Yuuri doesn’t think he minds.

“Oh, um, Moonlight Drive,” he says. Viktor glances over at him.

“Seriously? That’s so far away! You walk home every day?”

“Yeah,” Yuuri shrugs.

“I guess you don’t have a car then,” Viktor says, a little wryly. He indicates again to turn left, and slows to a stop as they hit a little queue of traffic.

“No,” Yuuri says. He likes watching Viktor drive, he realises, with a tiny jolt. He likes the way Viktor’s hands are constantly changing position on the steering wheel, from holding it with two hands near the top, then sliding down to just gripping the bottom with three fingers on his left hand, as his right hovers over the indicator.

“I actually don’t even have my license,” Yuuri confesses.

“Why not?” Viktor asks, “If you don’t mind me asking. No pressure to answer or anything,” Viktor laughs a little, as he drives around the corner. Yuuri likes this – that Viktor acknowledges that he doesn’t really need to know, that Viktor is aware that there might be a reason Yuuri doesn’t actually want to disclose.

“Oh, it’s okay,” Yuuri says, “I just…I’m kind of scared of driving.”

“Huh,” Viktor says, “that’s fair enough. I’m afraid of moths.”

“You’re – what?”

“You just told me something you were afraid of,” Viktor laughs, glancing over at Yuuri, “so I thought I’d return the favour! I’m afraid of moths. I hate them. They’re awful!”  
“Oh,” Yuuri is surprised, and maybe also a little delighted. Not that Viktor’s afraid of moths – although deep down he does think that’s cute – but more at the easy way Viktor offers up his confession like it’s fair game, like Yuuri actually has any right to know anything about him.

“That’s fair enough,” Yuuri continues, “they are a bit freaky.”

“I know!” Viktor yelps, and then laughs again.

They lapse into a silence that is slightly self-aware, but not necessarily uncomfortable. Yuuri stares out of the front windscreen, but watches Viktor out of the corner of his eye. Examines the casual folds of his soft grey sweater, ruched up around his elbows and slipping constantly off of one shoulder or the other. Every few seconds Viktor has to reach up to tag it back into place. The leather wristbands he wears slide up and down with every movement of his wrist. If Viktor knows that Yuuri is watching him, he doesn’t say anything about it.

The song changes on the radio. Viktor and Yuuri both reach to turn it up at the same time. Their fingers brush and a tiny little firework explodes in Yuuri’s stomach.

“Oh!” Viktor laughs, “sorry, you do it!”

He pulls back, and Yuuri turns up the song.

“You love this song too?” Yuuri asks Viktor, a little shyly.

“Yeah,” Viktor tucks his hair behind his ear, and returns Yuuri’s tentative smile with a dazzling one of his own, “It reminds me of the summer, you know? Memories played out to the soundtrack of this song.”

“Aha,” Yuuri says, “that’s very…”

“Cheesy? Oh, I know,” Viktor rests his head back against the headrest as he turns onto the main road towards Yuuri’s house.

“I just like it,” Yuuri confesses, “it doesn’t really have any special association for me, it’s just...a nice song.”

“Oh? Well,” Viktor says, and when he looks over at Yuuri this time there’s something unreadable about his usually open face, “maybe now this can be your memory to associate with this song.”

“Yeah,” Yuuri says, and then clears his throat, “yeah, maybe.”

Viktor is staring out of the front windshield, but there’s a soft little smile playing on his face. Yuuri doesn’t want to stare, so he just looks straight ahead too, but he’s hyperaware of Viktor next to him, and hyperaware too of the soft chords of the song as they play over the radio.

When Viktor pulls up outside Yuuri’s house, Yuuri reaches over to get his bag from the backseat. It’s fallen under Viktor’s seat, and Yuuri has kneel on his own seat and reach right back to get it. Viktor moves aside for him, but even then, Yuuri is practically in his lap. He can actually feel the softness of Viktor’s sweater brushing against where his own shirt has ridden up. Viktor swallows audibly.

When Yuuri at last straightens up, red faced with wonky glasses, Viktor reaches across and straightens them for him. It’s just a light touch, with one hand – Viktor’s skin doesn’t even come into contact with Yuuri’s face, merely tugs down one side of the frames so they’re parallel, but Yuuri still freezes with his heart in his mouth.

“Th-thanks,” he says.

“You’re welcome,” Viktor smiles. Yuuri decides he should bail, and fast. Things are getting a little too…well. A little too. He’s remembering all too well Phichit’s absurd proclamation that Viktor has a crush on him, and it’s just…too much. He opens the door and practically falls out onto the pavement.

“Thanks for the ride, Viktor,” he says, pausing awkwardly with his hand on the door before he closes it.

“No problem,” Viktor smiles, “hey – do you want a ride to rehearsal next Tuesday?”

Again, Yuuri considers saying no. Considers stepping back, putting distance between himself and Viktor, because he knows that when it’s all over Viktor will go back to never speaking to him again, and he wants to save himself from getting in too deep. But Yuuri’s always been too weak to resist, so he agrees.

“Yeah, that would be great. If you’re sure.”

“I am,” Viktor says, “I’ll pick you up at 5:40?”

“Okay,” Yuuri agrees, and then he shuts the car door and Viktor drives off, and Yuuri has to force himself to go inside the house so he doesn’t stand there on the curb staring after Viktor’s car like a lovesick idiot. Which he is – but that’s beside the point.

 

* * *

 

When Viktor shows up at 5:40 on the dot that Thursday, there are two McDonald’s milkshakes in the cup holders.

“I got one for you,” Viktor says, as he picks up his own to take a sip, “if you don’t like them, I can drink both!’

“Viktor,” Yuuri says, “you didn’t have to do that!”

“I was going past anyway,” Viktor shrugs, “it would have been rude not to get you one too!”

Yuuri picks it up slowly, takes a sip.

“Thank you,” he says to Viktor, “it was really nice of you. And thanks for driving me, too.”

“No worries,” Viktor says easily. He holds his drink in one hand as he drives, props it up in his lap when he needs both hands to turn a sharp corner. His hair is loose this evening, tucked over his left shoulder. He’s wearing another sweater, one Yuuri hasn’t seen before. It’s pale pink, with a double ‘C’ embroidered in the middle.

“Hey Viktor,” Yuuri begins, “I have a question.”

“Hmmn?”

“You don’t have to answer, but, why do you always wear sweaters? Even in summer?”

“Oh,” Viktor glances at him, and then smiles, “I just like them, I guess. They’re comfy.”

“Don’t you get hot?” Yuuri asks. Viktor pauses.

“I’m sorry,” Yuuri says quickly.

“No, it’s okay,” Viktor says, “I do get hot sometimes, but if you want to be beautiful, you have to suffer, right?” The mildly arrogant answer, delivered with such lightness, is so typically _Viktor_ that Yuuri can’t help but smile. He thinks there might be something more to it, but he’s definitely not going to push Viktor about it. Viktor will either tell him, or he won’t. Yuuri drinks his milkshake, and looks out of the window at the familiar route. There is a comfortable silence between them – it’s not that Yuuri can’t think of a thousand things he’d like to say to Viktor, it’s just that he doesn’t feel any particularly pressing need to say them right _now_. Viktor apparently feels the same.

He nods his head along to the song on the radio, laughs a little at the bad jokes told by the hosts. And then they’re at school, and he parks his car and he and Yuuri walk in together.

“By the way,” Yuuri says, as he holds open the door for Viktor, “chocolate thick shakes from McDonalds are my second favourite food.”

“Oh, I’m glad,” Viktor says, “but what’s your first favourite?”

“Katsudon,” he says, stepping into the foyer behind Viktor.

“Is that like donburi?”

“Yeah, that’s pretty much what it is! My mum makes the best pork cutlet bowls, with egg and pork and vegetables and rice.”

“Sounds amazing,” Viktor says.

“Mmn,” Yuuri nods and smiles, “it is.”

“Well,” Viktor says, “I’ll have to try them sometime!”

He’s looking sideways at Yuuri as he says this, with a smile that Yuuri can’t quite read. Yuuri finds himself unexpectedly flustered at the thought of Viktor being privy to such a mundane element of his life as his mum’s katsudon. But then they are in the hall, and Yuuri is summoned by Leo to watch some vines until it’s time for rehearsal to start, and the thought slowly slips away from him.

 

When they break for five minutes at 7 o’clock that evening, Viktor exchanges a significant look with Yuuri, and inclines his head towards Miss Okukawa. Yuuri takes this to mean that Viktor thinks now is a good time to tell his drama teacher about his characters and choreography brainwave. He’s a little nervous about it – but he likes her and trusts her, and she did say that she wanted the production to be a collaborative effort. All the same, he’s grateful when Viktor follows him over to her.

“Hey boys,” she says as the approach, “what’s up?”

“Well,” Yuri takes a deep breath, and then finds his throat is really quite dry. He starts to cough. Viktor claps him on the back and then says: “Yuuri has a really good idea that he wanted to share with you about the ball scene!”

“Yep,” Yuuri gasps, and then takes a deep breath. His little random coughing fit has broken the internal ice, and so he starts to talk. Miss Okukawa calls Mme. Baranovskaya over, and instructs Yuuri and Viktor to show them the dance. They are no better at it the second time around, but they don’t need to be. At least this time Viktor has some idea of what is going on, and is not surprised by the mock-lifts. The other students keep looking over at them, clearly wondering why it’s taking so long to get back to practise – but they’re not about to question the unexpected free time.

“I like it,” Miss Okukawa says, when Yuuri and Viktor drop their hands and shuffle a little awkwardly, “what do you think, Lilya?”

“I can see where it needs work,” Mme. Baranovskaya says, “the fundamentals are there, but they need to be polished. But if we’re going to go in that vein, we will have to up the difficultly level of the entire scene in order to compensate. Some of the less artful chorus member may find that difficult.”

“If we start work on the choreography now, and make sure everyone has week to practise, it’ll be alright surely?” Miss O says. She turns thoughtful eyes on Yuuri.

“Yuuri,” she says, “would you be willing to work with Mme. Baranovskaya on choreographing the dance to work for everyone? Obviously your elements will be for you two alone, but I’m sure you wouldn’t mind an assistant for teaching all our less nimble students to dance well?” here she glances over at Mme. Baranovskaya with a grin.

“Certainly. And you too, Mr. Nikiforov,” Mme. Baranovskaya says. Viktor blinks, surprised.

“I haven’t done ballet in years,” he says.

“No, but you’re good at encouraging people,” Miss Okukawa says, “plus, it will be good for the two of you. A trust exercise, or something.”

“Okay,” Yuuri says, and after a beat Viktor agrees too.

Yuuri can’t quite keep the grin off his face. It always feels good to have something of your own – an idea, or a plan – implemented, brought into motion. Viktor touches a hand to his back (Yuuri jumps slightly) and says, “See! I knew she’d like it!”

Miss Okukawa grins again at this.

“You two will need additional practises,” she says, “Lilya?”

“I’ll work something out,” Mme. Baranovskaya says, “expect an email from me, boys. And be prepared to sacrifice a lot of time into this,” she warns them. Both Yuuri and Viktor nod, and are then dismissed as the chorus are called to attention.

 

* * *

 

Their first private practise takes place at lunch time the following Monday. Yuuri leaves his friends behind after the bell, to a chorus of ‘good-lucks’ and a slightly ominous “Don’t break him, Yuuri!” from Phichit.

Yuuri considers eating his bread roll on his way to the drama room, but decides that he’s too nervous. Instead, he slides into the drama room and finds he is the first one there. He hovers in the centre of the room for a moment, wonders if maybe he should swing by the drama office to make sure he hasn’t got the wrong day…? But then the door creaks open, and Viktor appears.

“Hey Yuuri,” he says, dropping his bag in a corner, “how was your weekend?”

“Um. It was okay.”

“Yeah, mine too,” Viktor says. He then goes into the cupboard to get changed. Mme. Baranovskaya has decreed that they are forbidden to practise dancing in their uniforms, and so both boys have bought appropriate dance clothes to train in. Yuuri has already changed into his stirrup leggings and under armour shirt. Viktor soon remerges, in grey fat pants and a plain black shirt, long sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

“Hey, I was wondering,” Viktor says as he pulls back the curtains in front of the mirrored wall, “can you show me the dance again? I want to see what it looks like in the mirror.”

“Sure,” Yuuri says, “but don’t you want to wait for Mme. Baranovskaya?”

“Nah,” Viktor shrugs, “let’s just do it.”

So they do. Every time Yuuri dances with Viktor, it gets a little easier. He finds that the more he touches Viktor, the more he is able to swallow his crush and think of Viktor as just another dance partner. This is on the condition, of course, that he doesn’t look up at Viktor’s face and inadvertently look into his pretty blue eyes.

But for now, this is no problem – they are stepping slowly and carefully, spotting themselves in the mirror and Viktor attempts to commit the steps to memory. They are halfway through when Mme. Baranovskaya appears at last – she instructs them to go again from the beginning, and watches very closely.

She straightens their posture, suggests alternative positions, and then eventually drags them both apart and critiques them so thoroughly that Yuuri is a little flabbergasted.

“Don’t take it so hard, Yuuri,” Viktor pants, flinging his sweaty arm around Yuuri’s shoulder, “that’s just ballet!”

“Yeah, I know,” Yuuri mumbles. Viktor grins down at him.

“I know you do,” he says.

“Alright,” Mme. Baranovskaya has been taking notes, and she turns them around now to show her pupils, “we’ll work more on the potential choreography for the general chorus on Wednesday, but for the last fifteen minutes I want to get started working on these lifts. They will be the hardest thing to learn, and they need to be flawless.”

It is decided that Yuuri will continue to be the one who lifts Viktor – it is, as Viktor says, an inversion of the traditional archetypes, and Mme. Baranovskaya loves the idea. Plus, Yuuri is the stronger dancer.

This is all well and good, in theory, but in actuality, lifting Viktor up by the waist is a little different. Yuuri is so worried that he’s going to drop him, that his hands slip, and Viktor lands hard.

“Oh my God,” Yuuri gasps, “Viktor, I’m sorry!” He claps his hands to his mouth.

Viktor just laughs.

“Ah, it’s okay, Yuuri!” he says. He holds his hands out to Yuuri, who pulls him to his feet, “this is getting to be a habit, hmn?”

He’s laughing still, holding hands with Yuuri, and standing far too close to Yuuri for comfort.

“Still,” he says, and winks, “I would prefer it if you could refrain from dropping me on my ass again. Three times might be too many!”

“Sorry again,” Yuuri mumbles. Viktor hums thoughtfully, and Yuuri looks at him warily. He’s scrutinising Yuuri with a look that seems a little… alarming.

“I have an idea,” he says slowly, “that may help you.”

“With, with the lifts?”

“No, not with the lifts,” Viktor says, “although maybe as a by-product…you’re still having a little trouble with character, right?”

“Well,” Yuuri says awkwardly, “less than I was, but…”

“Okay,” Viktor says, “but it’s a lot, right? Acting out such a…sweeping romance.” He’s inching closer and closer to Yuuri as he talks, and Yuuri feels as though he should be backing away, but having Viktor so close…

“A _hem_ ,” Mme. Baranovskaya clears her throat meaningfully, and Viktor shoots her a smile.

“Sorry,” he apologises, and then winks at Yuuri, “I’ll tell you later,” he promises, and Yuuri doesn’t know if he should be afraid, or turned on.

 

Later turns out to be some five minutes after the fact, when Mme. Baranovskaya has left the room. Viktor drags him into the closet to get changed. He just takes his pants off as he talks, with seemingly no awareness of Yuuri’s blush, or slightly slackened jaw.

“So I was thinking,” he says, “Romeo and Juliet are such a – you know – grand archetypal romance, that we could maybe _both_ use a little help finding the romance, you know?”

“Um?” Yuuri says intelligently. Viktor is half in and half out of his uniform, turned away so that his left side is facing Yuuri. Suddenly realising that he too needs to get dressed, Yuuri turns his back on Viktor and tried to find a way to get dressed whilst maintaining maximum clothing coverage. He has only half manged this – his shirt is on, at least, although he’s still wearing his leggings, when Viktor grabs him by the shoulder and spins him around so that his back is up against the wall.

“I think the best way to find the romance,” Viktor says, “would be to try a bit of method acting!”

“UM,” says Yuuri, “wait, method acting is where you just, pretend to be your character at all hours of the day and night, isn’t it?”

“Yup,” Viktor pops the p happily, “I don’t think I could stand to be Romeo all the time, since he’s kind of a fuckboy, but I thought that maybe…it might help you be more comfortable, if we were, you know…a little closer.”

The cupboard is by no means small – there is plenty of room to swing the proverbial cat. This does nothing to reassure Yuuri that there is anything less than mildly sexual about the fact that Viktor has him up against the wall in a closet. Even if Viktor isn’t _that_ close to him – there’s plenty of breathing space between the two, the fact remains…

“Well,” Yuuri exhales. The nice, quiet, shy part of his brain is telling him to flee, and quickly, before he totally embarrasses himself in front of the boy he has had a crush on since forever. But Yuuri is still riding a confidence high from seeing his plans with the dancing brought to fruition, and possibly the endorphins from the exercise have something to say for what he does next too.

He reaches up and puts his palms against Viktor’s chest, as if he were going to push him away – but he doesn’t. He just rests them there.

“Well,” he says again, “you’re the expert.”

Viktor had tensed slightly when Yuuri touched him – perhaps anticipating the shove – but he relaxes now, and reaches up an arm to prop it up by Yuuri’s head. Yuuri can’t quite meet his eye, so focuses on the jumping pulse in his neck instead.

The moment is broken rather spectacularly by the door being opened. Viktor jumps back quickly, stepping over closer to his things so fast it appears that he has never been in Yuuri’s personal space at all.

“Oh, sorry,” says the younger student who had been coming in to store something.

“S’alright,” Viktor says, “we were just getting changed after dance.”

The other student back out and Viktor tosses a wink over his shoulder at Yuuri as he picks up his bag. Yuuri has not moved, is still slumped slightly against the wall. As the door shuts behind Viktor with a snap, something in Yuuri’s head snaps too.

He claps a hand to his mouth, trying futilely to fight the sticky feeling of embarrassment crashing over him in waves.

What has he done? Viktor had flirted with him, kind of – but Yuuri had flirted back? Oh man. _Oh man_.

He finishes dressing quickly and rushes to class, heart still pounding in his ears. He arrives a minute late to class, still in the process of tying his tie.

“How was rehearsal?” Leo asks as Yuuri slides into his seat next to him.

“Fine,” Yuuri says. There’s no way he can tell his friends about this. They’ll never let him live it down.

 

* * *

 

“Viktor,” Yuuri says as he gets into the car a few weeks later, to the bag of liquorice being shaken under his nose, “you can’t just keep buying me random food.”

“Why not?” Viktor is genuinely baffled.

“Because it’s – I haven’t – I’m not…you know. Reciprocating,”

Viktor shrugs and drops the bag of liquorice into Yuuri’s lap, and then proceeds to rootle through it for a piece in the shape he wants. Yuuri gulps a little.

“I don’t care,” Viktor says as he digs through the bag, “I’m going to be eating anyway, it would just be rude for me not to bring you food too!”

“Well,” Yuuri starts to say, and then stops, because this is what Viktor says every time and every time it’s perfectly true.

“Okay,” he says instead, after some deliberation, “well, on Thursday, come over earlier and have dinner at my house instead. It will save you money.”

Viktor looks over at him.

“Really?” he says, “you mean it?”

“Um. Yeah,” Yuuri eats a piece of liquorice quickly, just for something to do with his hands, “you don’t have to if you don’t want to, it was just – “

“I’d love to!” Viktor interrupts. He seems genuinely delighted, and taps on the steering wheel with his fingers in lieu of clapping his hands, “thanks so much for inviting me, Yuuri! Can we have the katsudon? You said that was your favourite, right?”

“Oh,” Yuuri is surprised that Viktor even remembers this – he is such a forgetful being. Yuuri finds he is quite flattered.

“Yeah,” he continues, “they are! And I guess so – I’ll ask mum?”

“Yay,” Viktor says, genuinely happy.

 

* * *

 

He manages not to stress about Viktor coming over to dinner to only limited success. Mainly he just busies himself with his Chemistry assignment, so he doesn’t have room in his head to panic. Viktor texts him after school on Thursday wanting to know what time he should come over, and Yuuri descends into something of a meltdown. He throws himself into household chores (to the general amazement of Mari and his mother) to fill in time. His family usually eats at around seven, with Yuuri having something earlier on rehearsal days, but for Viktor’s sake they’re all eating at five instead.

Viktor has never once been late to pick Yuuri up, and tonight is no exception. He texts Yuuri to tell him that he’s outside, and Yuuri yelps and then promptly drops the vacuum cleaner on his own foot. In the time it takes for him to jump up and down, swear, and then shove the vacuum hastily back into the cupboard, Mari has opened the door to Viktor. For once, he isn’t wearing a sweater – he seems to have dressed up slightly for the occasion, and is wearing a navy button down instead. He looks slightly nervous, but relaxes when he sees Yuuri.

“Hello,” he says to Mari, holding out his hand, “I’m Viktor!”

“I gathered,” Mari says, but she shakes his hand anyway. She steps back, and Yuuri sidles over to Viktor, who looks relieved.

“Thanks for – welp,” he starts to say, but is cut off when Viktor hugs him in greeting. Yuuri _knows_ that Mari’s eyebrows are raised. He doesn’t even need to look. He just _knows_.

“Thanks, uh, thanks for coming,” he tries again, once Viktor has released him.

“Thanks for inviting me,” Viktor says, and it finally occurs to Yuuri to shut the front door behind him. Mari has disappeared into the living room to lurk in wait, so Yuuri directs Viktor to remove his shoes.

“Where shall I leave this?” Viktor asks, raising his Nike bag.

The process is always the same when one invites a friend to one’s house for the first time – the moderately awkward tour, the depositing of belongings, the slight discomfort that comes with unfamiliarity. Yuuri feels something like pressure – perhaps this is because Viktor is still such a new feature in his life, or perhaps this is because he wants Viktor to think well of him _so badly_.

But Viktor is the perfect dinner guest – he’s interested in everything Yuuri shows him or tells him, he’s helpful and friendly, and Yuuri doesn’t really have to do anything at all – he just stands back and watches Viktor charm his way into his parent’s hearts.

Appreciating his mother’s cooking is probably the icing on the cake. Viktor confesses that he’s never tried katsudon before, but the look on his face when he bites into the pork for the first time is priceless.

“I wish I could have got a photo,” Yuuri’s mother says fondly to Viktor after the fact, when Viktor has been forcibly restrained from helping to clear the table.

“Yeah, he’s really cute, isn’t he,” Mari says to Yuuri’s mother, whilst looking directly at Yuuri. Thank _God_ he’s standing behind Viktor with an armful of dishes, so the latter doesn’t see him flush bright red and glare furiously at his sister.

“Thank you,” Viktor says, and tosses his hair and laughs and winds Yuuri’s mother just that little bit father around his little finger.

Yuuri goes into the kitchen to load the dishwasher and so misses the next part of the conversation, but when he returns, his mother is saying something about Japan.

“What are you two talking about now?” he asks, leaning over the back of Viktor’s chair.

“You,” they both say.

“What?”

“Only good things, Yuuri,” Viktor grins up at him. His hair has started to come loose from his ponytail, and Yuuri only barely manages to restrain the urge to brush it back from his face. Instead, with some effort, he turns to face his mother, who says: “Viktor asked what you were like as a child!”

“Small,” Yuuri says dryly. His mother laughs.

“Yes, very small,” she says, “but chubby, too!”

“Um, yes, thanks,” he grimaces, and Viktor laughs again.

“Did Yuuri grow up in Japan?” he asks. Yuuri’s mother shakes her head.

“No,” she says, “Toshiya and I emigrated here when Mari was two – before Yuuri was born.”

“But you’ve been to Japan, right?” Viktor asks Yuuri, who at last accepts the inevitable and goes to sit at the head of the table. His father and Mari have gone into the living room to watch the early news, and Yuuri is aware of the time, knows that he and Viktor need to be leaving soon, but he can’t quite bring himself to remind Viktor. Having Viktor here, in his home, feels like he’s living inside a little bubble that he can’t bear to pop.

“Yeah,” he says instead, ”once or twice.”

“We don’t get back as often as we would like,” Hiroko sighs, and rests her chin in her hands, “maybe we’ll go on a big trip when Yuuri graduates, to see the family. Would you like that, honey?” she asks Yuuri.

“That would be nice,” he agrees, “I haven’t been since I was…eight?” he says to Viktor, who nods. His facial expression is unreadable, but Yuuri isn’t stressed about it. Something about being at home has put him totally at ease with Viktor – this is his turf, he can really relax here, and although Viktor’s approval matters to him, being at home makes him confident that he will receive it.

“Do you have any good embarrassing stories about Yuuri?” Viktor asks his mother then, with a wicked grin.

“ _No,_ Viktor!” Yuuri yelps. Hiroko laughs.

“Oh yes,” she says, “the best one is – “

“Okay!” Yuuri stands up and loops his arm around Viktor’s neck, putting his watch right in front of Viktor’s eyes, “we need to go now! No time for embarrassing stories today!”

“Spoilsport,” Viktor pouts, “there’s always time for embarrassing stories about cute baby Yuuri!”

“I know a few good embarrassing stories about cute older Yuuri too,” his mother says. Viktor looks delighted. Yuuri seizes him by the shoulders and removes him from the chair.

“Okay, we’re leaving now! Thanks Mum!” he says, and proceeds to try and drag a laughing Viktor towards the front door. Viktor evades him like an eel, and bows goodbye to Hiroko, and then goes into the living room to say goodbye to his father and sister. There, he is distracted by Yuuri’s baby photos.

“Oh, Yuuri, you _were_ adorable!” he says, picking up a picture of three-year-old Yuuri in a sweater with a ‘Y’ on the front.

“This is my favourite one,” Mari says. She walks over from where she had been sitting on the sofa and digs up a photo from the back of the display. It’s one of Yuuri, aged 12, cuddling a puppy.

“Oh,” Viktor takes it from her, and examines it closely, “this is so cute! Yuuri! Look how cute you were!” he turns the photo to show a long-suffering Yuuri. Mari glances from Viktor to Yuuri, with a look that says (very clearly) ‘we will be talking about this/him later’.

“Mmn,” Yuuri says noncommittally in response to the both of them.

“Okay, okay,” Viktor snickers. He hands the picture back to Mari, and leads the way out of the house.

“Thanks for inviting me Yuuri,” he says again, as they clip in their seatbelts and he turns the keys in the ignition.

“It was my pleasure,” Yuuri says sincerely.

Viktor glances searchingly sideways. Yuuri holds his gaze, unabashed. It feels for a moment as though they are hovering on the brink of something, although Yuuri doesn’t know _what_. He still isn’t used to this – to the casual intimacy of having Viktor in his life. His vibrant presence has permeated Yuuri’s life in almost every way over the last month. Before, he had been a pipe dream. Now he is a possibility, and this knowledge catches in Yuuri’s throat and makes his hands tremble.

Viktor carefully unties his hair and lets it float down loose around his face. He hadn’t been exaggerating, all those weeks ago in Miss Okukawa’s office – his hair really does grow ridiculously fast. It now reaches about a third of the way down his back, having grown some four inches in five weeks. Only then does he ease off the handbrake, and pull slowly away from the curb.

“Hey,” Viktor says as he turns out of Yuuri’s street, “do you want to come over to mine on Saturday to run lines? My parents won’t be home, but you can meet my dog and my brother – and have a look at all _my_ baby photos. As recompense,” he adds with a grin.

“Okay,” Yuuri says – doesn’t even consider saying no or blowing Viktor off as he might have only two weeks ago, “I’m only agreeing because of the dog though,” he adds.

“Obviously,” Viktor winks.

 

* * *

 

On Saturday morning, Mari drops him off in the street outside Viktor’s house. It is completely innocuous – two stories, yellow stucco, a moderately landscaped garden – perched on the corner of a cul-de-sac. For some reason Yuuri is surprised – he had expected Viktor’s house to be something other than ordinary. A mock Tudor mansion maybe, or a sprawling lifestyle block. But no – Viktor is just like everyone else after all.

Yuuri has to force himself not to agonise over the doorbell. He gives it a quick jab, then steps back and waits. After a few moments, the door is opened by a very short boy with chin-length blonde hair and bright green eyes. He looks to be about eleven or twelve. He’s holding his phone in his hand, and glaring at Yuuri with such rage that Yuuri almost takes a step back. The boy doesn’t say anything, he just stares.

“Uh,” Yuuri begins, “I’m here to see Viktor?”

The Viktor in question then appears on the visible stairs behind the door.

“Yuri!” he calls, “don’t be rude!”

Yuuri is taken aback. He wasn’t aware that he was being anything at all? But then the younger boy turns and says something incomprehensible and vaguely angry sounding, to which Viktor replies: “Yup! You’re both called Yuri!” and offers Yuuri a one-armed hug in greeting.

“Huh?” the small Yuri says.

“Really?” the older Yuuri asks. Viktor laughs.

“Fun, right?”

Yuri says something else in the language with which Yuuri is not familiar. Viktor turns and glares at him, replying in the same language. Yuuri looks between the two of them, utterly baffled. The small Yuri huffs and disappears up the stairs, and Viktor turns back to him with an apologetic smile as he closes the front door.

“Sorry,” he says, “Yurochka likes to speak Russian whenever I have guests, just to be a pain.”

“I didn’t know you were Russian,” Yuuri blurts as he follows Viktor into the living room. Viktor turns and stares at him.

“I – I just meant,” Yuuri feels incredibly awkward, “I didn’t know if your family were Russian, or Ukrainian or something, I’m sorry.”

“Because I don’t have an accent, and I’m not flamboyantly Slavic?” Viktor asks, and Yuuri nods, still feeling shamefaced. But then Viktor laughs and pitches himself sideways over the back of the couch so he’s lying with his legs in the air.

“It’s fine!” he says. Yuuri relaxes. “I was born here actually – my parents left Russia in…’93 I think, to come here. We speak Russian at home, but that’s about as close as it gets for Yurochka and I.”

“Oh, okay,” Yuuri rests his forearms and peers down at Viktor with interest, “that’s similar to me then.”

“Yeah,” Viktor rolls his head sideways into his arm and peers up at Yuuri with a disarmingly shy little smile, “that’s why I was so interested in your family history when I was at your house.”

It does make a little more sense now, why Viktor was so enthusiastic to meet Yuuri’s family.

“I thought that was just because you’re a naturally charming and sunny person,” Yuuri says with a shrug.

“Oh,” Viktor says. His face goes slightly pink, “I suppose that’s also true.”

“So,” Yuuri comes around the sofa at last and sits down next to Viktor, who flicks his legs off the back of the couch to drape them over Yuuri’s lap instead, “have you ever been to Russia?”

“Mmn!” Viktor nods, “Not since I was thirteen, though. We used to go a lot before that, but not so much since I started high school.”

Yuuri is interested in Viktor’s background, in his stories about his childhood. He wants to get to know Viktor better, _really_ know him – all the bits and pieces that make up the whole. As he looks around the living room, he can see little bits and pieces of Viktor everywhere. On the bookshelf over by the wall, most of the spines bear titles in Cyrillic. On the coffee table is little bear statue, waving a Russian flag. And over on the wall…

“A _ha_ ,” Yuuri says. He gets up and goes to have a closer look, “are these your baby photos?”

“Yep,” Viktor laughs, getting up and coming to stand behind Yuuri, “these are they!”

Viktor was an adorable child – all round cheeks and curly silver hair. With a long-suffering sigh, Viktor starts explaining the stories behind them.

“This is me when I was three,” he says, “and this is me and Yurochka when he was born…this is us in Moscow in 2005, this is us with our grandparents in Severouralsk in 2009…” Viktor trails off, and looks at the picture fondly. Yuuri calculates quickly – he would have been 11, and the other Yuri about 5 or 6. They both have shoulder-length hair, and are sitting on a log next to a lake. Behind them are an old couple. Viktor’s grandmother has his pointy nose.

“Do you miss Russia?” Yuuri asks. Viktor shrugs one shoulder.

“It’s not my home,” he says, “and I don’t know that I would want to go back, now.”

“Why is that?” Yuuri asks. Viktor looks very unhappy as he turns to Yuuri, who immediately apologises.

“I’m sorry,” he says, “you don’t have to tell me, I was prying.”

“No,” Viktor shakes his head, “you weren’t, it’s okay! I’m happy to talk to you about anything, Yuuri. The thing about Russia…” he pauses, makes a moue, “it’s just that it’s a very homophobic country, and that makes me sad, you know?”

For a moment, Yuuri doesn’t know what to say. Isn’t quite sure if he’s actually breathing.

“Are you…?” he begins.

“Gay?” Viktor asks wryly, “kind of. A little bit. Well, I’m not straight, anyway, so I wouldn’t feel totally welcome in Russia based on that alone.” He smiles at Yuuri – is always smiling at Yuuri, is so warm even when he’s talking about something that makes him sad.

“I’m not really into labels,” he continues, “but if I was, I guess I would probably be bisexual? But whatever,” he shrugs. Yuuri takes a dep breath.

“Same,” he peeps.

“I know,” Viktor says, which is so totally disarming that Yuuri just stares at him.

“I…that’s not the response I expected,” he says after a second. Viktor grimaces.

“Ooops, sorry,” he says, “I just – it’s kind of obvious? Oh no, don’t be embarrassed Yuuri, I’m sorry!”

Yuuri tries to hide his face because _OhGodhetotallyknowsIhaveacrushonhim_ , but Viktor seizes his wrists and pulls them down.

“It’s okay!” he says, and pulls Yuuri into a hug, “I’m just pretty good at telling when other people aren’t straight!”

Oh. It occurs to Yuuri that maybe Viktor _doesn’t_ know…? He holds onto that possibility like a lifeline, because it’s the only thing saving him from death by embarrassment right now.

Desperately seeking to change the subject, he asks why Viktor calls the other Yuri Yurochka. Viktor releases him, and flops back onto the couch.

“Ah, it’s a Russian thing,” he explains, “we don’t usually actually call other people by their full names. We use nicknames a lot, so Yuri is Yurochka.”

“What are you?” Yuuri asks.

“My family usually call me Viten’ka,” he says, “or Vitya. I like Vitya best.”

“Oh,” Yuuri considers this for a moment, “so…in Russia…people would not really ever call you Viktor?”

“I don’t know _that_ many Russian people really, but no. But,” Viktor sits up, “what about in Japan? You have honorifics, right?”

“Yeah,” Yuuri nods, “if I was going to talk to you in Japanese, I guess…I’d call you Victor-kun?”

“What would I call you in Japanese?” Viktor asks.

“Uh, I don’t know – Yuuri-kun?” Yuuri makes a face, and Viktor giggles into the back of the couch.

“If I was talking to _you_ in Russian, I’d call you Yura,” he says.

“Yura,” Yuuri repeats, trying it on for size. He finds he quite likes it, really – or at least, he likes it because Viktor said it.

There is clattering on the stairs, and Yuri reappears. He is carrying a cat in his arms, and behind him trails a large brown poodle.

“Your dumb dog was terrorising Masha again!” he says in English. Like Viktor, he has no trace of a Russian accent when he speaks in English.

“Makkachin,” Viktor says reprovingly to the dog, which wags its tail, and then pads over to Yuuri to sniff his hand. Yuri and his cat sit down beside Viktor. Yuuri watches with interest as the younger Yuri does exactly what Viktor had done to him only a few minutes previously – swings his legs up into his older brother’s lap, and lies back with his cat sitting on his chest. Viktor lolls backward and starts patting the cat, which Yuuri assumes is named Masha.

“Ah,” Viktor says, “Yuuri, meet Yuri.”

“Hello,” Yuuri says, seeing that the younger boy appears to be in a slightly better mood. He navigates around Makkachin and holds his hand out to the younger boy.

“I’m not going to sniff it,” he says coolly. Viktor makes a choking noise and goes bright red as he tries not to laugh.

“Thanks,” Yuuri says dryly, “I was hoping you might shake it?”

Yuri sighs and grumbles something in Russian under his breath. Viktor pinches his foot. Yuri hisses, but shakes Yuuri’s hand. He then says something else to Viktor, who beams.

“Yura,” he says. Yuuri isn’t sure if Viktor is addressing him or not, but then Yuri nods.

“Ok,” he says, and then turns to Yuuri, “I’m Yurochka, you’re Yura, got it?”

“Um. Yup,” he says. Yurochka nods, kicks his feet until Viktor stops poking them, and then gets off the couch and goes back upstairs. He is still carrying his very complacent cat.

“He likes you,” Viktor says once Yurochka has left the room.

“Huh? Really?”

“Yeah,” Viktor tips his head to the side, “he wouldn’t have asked to nickname you if he didn’t like you. Or spoken in English, for that matter.”

“Oh,” Yuuri says. He finds that he’s quite pleased that Yurochka apparently likes him – he didn’t really realise that he wanted approval from Viktor’s family until he got it.

Suddenly Yurochka reappears again, still brandishing his very placid cat, and asks Viktor a pointed question.

“Um,” says Viktor, mysteriously blushing, “ah…” he then glances at Yuuri, and replies to his brother.

“Ha!” says Yurochka, and disappears back up the stairs again.

“What was _that_?” Yuuri asks Viktor.

“Nothing,” Viktor says, very shadily. Yuuri just _looks_ at him, very suspicious. Viktor studiously avoids eye contact.

“Ah, so,” he says, “we should run our lines, yes?”

“Yeees,” Yuuri says, still hoping that Viktor will tell him what his brother just asked him, and why he seems so embarrassed about it.

“Okay!” Viktor says. He gets off the couch, goes rummaging behind the living room door, and emerges clutching a bundle of leads. Makkachin barks and rushes over to Viktor.

“We can practise whilst walking the dog,” Viktor tells Yuuri, who knows a subject change when he hears one.

 

* * *

 

They walk around the neighbourhood. One of them holds a script, and the other one holds the lead. They swap every few streets. Yuuri enjoys himself immensely. It’s still warm and summery outside, and he likes the feel of the sun on his skin. He likes just hanging out with Viktor, working on lines, getting an idea of how they might deliver their scenes together. They discuss character and blocking as they walk too, and every now and again Yuuri makes notes on the script with the pen he carries in his pocket, to go over with Miss Okukawa at rehearsals. Makkachin is very well trained, totally happy to plod along in front of them, only occasionally stopping to sniff an interesting tree or passer-by.

When they return to the house, Viktor makes them sandwiches, and they go upstairs to deliver lunch to Yurochka. They end up eating in Viktor’s room – Viktor sits cross legged on his bed, and Yuuri sits at his desk chair, turned backwards so his chest is pressed against the back of it. Having exhausted the discussion of Romeo and Juliet for the time being, their conversation turns to other things – movies they’ve seen, books they’ve read, embarrassing things their friends have said. Viktor slouches against the wall as they talk, and his sweater falls right off his shoulder and half way down his arm. Yuuri, who finds the slow revelation of Viktor’s pale skin absolutely captivating, catches sight of something purple on his arm, and asks about without even pausing to think.

Viktor immediately yanks his sweater back up.

 “I’m sorry,” Yuuri says quickly, seeing that he might have made a mistake, “I shouldn’t have pushed –”

“No, really, it’s okay. I said before that you can ask me anything, didn’t I? I really do mean it!” Viktor’s smile is genuine, and Yuuri believes him.

“Do you remember when you asked me why I always wear sweaters?” Viktor asks after a moment. Yuuri nods.

“This is why,” Viktor says. Slowly and tentatively, he pushes down the right shoulder of his sweater again, and squiggles his arm until he’s freed it. He then turns to show it to Yuuri. Halfway between his elbow and shoulder on the inside of his arm is a large port-wine birthmark. It’s about the size of a pomegranate, and a similar colour. Yuuri looks at it, and then back up at Viktor’s face. Viktor is watching him anxiously.

“It’s a birthmark,” Yuuri says.

“Yeah,” Viktor says. He looks down at it, and then grimaces and puts his sweater back on properly.

“I…guess I understand that you wouldn’t want people to see it,” Yuuri says slowly. Viktor sighs.

“Yeah,” he says again, “it’s ugly, and I don’t like it. It sorta…ruins the look,” he grins, easy as always.

“It doesn’t really bother me,” he explains further, when he sees Yuuri hesitating, “it’s not like I really hate it. But it’s just ugly and I don’t really like people seeing me as anything less than perfect, I guess.”

“You’re so vain,” Yuuri says, and then claps his hand to his mouth, “oh, no, Viktor, I’m sorry – I don’t –”

“It’s okay,” Viktor throws his head back and laughs, “I kind of am! I prefer to think of myself as being justified in my confidence, but you know,” he shrugs, “I suppose some people would see it as a negative…do you?”

“Huh?”

“Do you think that it’s a bad thing?” Viktor looks slightly anxious. Yuuri weighs his word carefully, and then says:

“No.”

“Oh, thank God,” Viktor slumps back against the wall with a theatrical sigh, “I don’t think I could live with myself if you hated me.” He shoots a soft smile at Yuuri.

“I don’t think it’s possible for anyone to hate you, Viktor,” he says, slightly more earnestly then he means to. Viktor sits forward again, and starts playing with some of the bobbles on his blanket.

“I’m not universally liked, Yuuri,” he says quietly. Yuuri privately – or not so privately – thinks that the sun pretty much shines out of Viktor’s ass, and is about to say so, but then Viktor keeps talking.

“Like I said, it doesn’t bother me,” he said, “people can think I’m vain, people can think I’m frivolous, whatever, it’s true, I am.”

“Everyone has flaws,” Yuuri says with a shrug.

“Even me,” Viktor says. He’s looking at Yuuri like he knows exactly what Yuuri is thinking, knows exactly how Yuuri feels about him. Which is slightly disconcerting. Yuuri looks down at the carpet.

“Okay, Yuuri,” Viktor says, “tell me something about you.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m totally conceited and have a weird birthmark,” Viktor says matter-of-factly, “tell me something like that.”

“Oh,” Yuuri thinks for a moment, “I guess I don’t have a lot of confidence?”

Strangely, it costs him something to admit that.

“Yeah,” Viktor says thoughtfully, “I noticed.”

Yuuri looks up at him sharply. He’s peering across at Yuuri, biting the inside of his lip and frowning a little, seemingly deep in thought as he scrutinises Yuuri. Then he grins, and stands up. He walks over to Yuuri and holds his hand out. Yuuri takes it, and Viktor tugs him to his feet.

“I think I have an idea,” he says, “it’s something I read in a book once. Do you trust me?”

“Trust you to what?”

“I dunno,” Viktor laughs, “just, do you trust me?”

“Yeah,” Yuuri says, because he does.

“Okay,” Viktor says. He turns to go, and then pauses. He is still holding Yuuri’s hand.

“By the way, it’s an idea about making you feel more confident. It might make you feel a little uncomfortable, and if you really don’t want to, then that’s okay too. But you can trust me to be there, and to help you, okay?”

“What are you going to do?” Yuuri asks cautiously.

“It will ruin it if I tell you,” Viktor says, and then bites his lip. He’s watching Yuuri’s face very carefully. Truthfully Yuuri does feel a little worried now – but maybe not in a bad way. He _does_ trust Viktor. If Viktor says that he’ll be there, and that he’ll help, then…well, Yuuri believes him.

“Okay,” he says, “yeah, it’s alright. I do trust you.” Feeling the impulse and following it for once, he squeezes Viktor’s fingers. Viktor squeezes back, and turns and leads the way out of the bedroom. He doesn’t drop Yuuri’s hands, and the little bubble of happiness that comes from physical contact keeps Yuuri buoyed up from Viktor’s bedroom all the way into his car and down to the mall.

He starts to get worried again as Viktor leads him into the shopping centre.

“Viktor,” he says, “Vitya.”

Viktor immediately turns and comes to his side.

“It will be okay,” he says. His eyes flick all over Yuuri’s face, and he touches Yuuri’s hands, “I promise. Just smile.”

And then he turns around, takes a step back and yells at the top of his lungs: “EVERYBODY LOOK AT YUURI!”

People turn and stare. Viktor spreads his arms out, presenting Yuuri like he’s a car at an expo. Yuuri claps his hands to his face in embarrassment.

“Put your hands down and smile,” Viktor says to him. Yuuri just looks at Viktor. The older boy is watching him, smiling softly, and he’s looking at Yuuri like…like he deserves to be shown off. Yuuri drops his hands from his face. His smile is very embarrassed, and he’s totally sure face is _bright_ red. People are still staring at him. Some look at Viktor. But then, after a few seconds, everyone looks away and gets on with their lives.

Viktor throws his arms around Yuuri’s shoulders, and hangs his entire weight off of Yuuri’s body like a toddler.

“Yay, Yuuri!” he says, “you did great!”

“ _Viktor_ ,” Yuuri says. He’s forced to wrap his arms around Viktor’s slight frame, lest they both collapse onto the ground. Viktor just hugs him, and shakes him from side to side slightly.

“See,” he says, “all those people were looking at you, and I bet they all thought you were someone special, someone worth looking at. Which I think you are.”

Sometimes, Yuuri wonders if Viktor is a little naïve, but whenever that thought hits him, he always has to wonder if maybe it’s just because he’s actually a little jaded. He doesn’t want to think about that now, so he just concentrates on Viktor. Concentrates on how _nice_ it feels to hold him. Concentrates on how nice he smells, and how soft his hair is, and…oh God. He’s in so deep.

Viktor releases him at last.

“We can go now, if you like,” he says with a laugh, “but since we came all the way here, we could get food?”

“Sure,” Yuuri says weakly, and lets Viktor lead the way.

They end up getting frozen yogurt, and taking it back to the car to eat.

“I do have a question though,” Viktor says as they walk, around a mouthful of strawberry yogurt.

“Yeah?”

“How is it that you can act as beautifully as you do, and still not be confident? Like, it takes quite a lot of confidence to get up onstage.”

“Yeah,” Yuuri shrugs, “I dunno, I guess it’s different because I’m not me when I’m onstage, you know? It’s me I don’t like, not my characters.”

He doesn’t quite realise what he’s said until Viktor stops dead and stares at him. His mouth is open in a little upside down ‘D’ shape, and he’s frowning so hard there’s a little line between his eyebrows. Yuuri restrains the urge to reach over and smooth it out, but only barely.

“What?” he asks instead.

“Yuuri,” Viktor says, like he’s disappointed, or mad.

“What did I say?”

Instead of replying, Viktor just hugs him. It’s unexpected, and Yuuri thinks he probably gets yogurt on Viktor’s sweater.

“Did you mean that?” Viktor asks. His voice is muffled into Yuuri’s shoulder.

“Mean what?”

“You just said you didn’t like yourself,” Viktor says, “did you mean it?”

“Oh, that,” Yuuri laughs, and gently detaches Viktor. He was right – there is a smudge of chocolate yogurt on Viktor’s black sweater, “yeah, I guess. I mean, I’m okay, but…I dunno.” He eats a bit more yogurt to avoid elaborating.

“Oh,” Viktor says. He looks down at his sweater and notices the stain. “Guess I have my work cut out for me, huh.” He says, very quietly.

“What?” says Yuuri.

“Nothing,” Viktor grins, in a way that Yuuri is beginning to recognise. All of Viktor’s smiles are genuine, but some of them mean different things. This is the one he pulls up when he wants to charm someone into changing the subject. Yuuri narrows his eyes, but shrugs. He’ll bite, if Viktor wants him to. He starts walking back to the car again, and after a second Viktor starts walking too. When Yuuri glances back over his shoulder, Viktor is frowning down at his yogurt, contemplating it as if it holds the secrets to the universe.

 

* * *

 

They are in the middle of working with the chorus when Viktor does it again. They’re working on the choreography for the final fight scene, which is to say Viktor and his gang are swanning around whilst the chorus fall about in a shambles and get yelled at by Mme. Baranovskaya. Viktor wanders over to where Yuuri is fiddling on his phone and peers over his shoulder to see what Yuuri is looking at. Today he’s wearing a grey sweater covered in flowers. Yuuri’s sister owns the same one – but Yuuri thinks Viktor wears it better.

Yuuri stretches his shoulders, and notices Viktor flicking him a sly look from under his silvery lashes.

“Hey,” Viktor begins, very loudly.

“Viktor, no.”

“Everybody look at Yuuuu-ri!” Viktor calls. He’s grinning away, and Yuuri is quite sure that he’s taking some sort of pleasure from Yuuri’s discomfort now.

“ _Viktor_!”

Everyone has stopped their activity and turned to look between he and Viktor is bafflement.

“Why are we looking at Yuuri?” Minami asks, in a perfect stage whisper (god damn the Drama students) from near the piano.

“Because,” Viktor says, “he deserves to be looked at it!”

Minami says something in a normal whisper to Chris, who is next to him. Chris laughs and nods.

Yuuri finds that he’s not as embarrassed this time. Sure, it’s still a little uncomfortable, everyone turning around to stare at him, but it’s not _nearly_ as bad as it had been at the mall. Viktor is beaming cheekily, Mme. Baranovskaya looks mad, but most people seem to agree that Yuuri is indeed worthy of their attention. That or they’re just acquiescing because Viktor told them to.

“You’re a work of art, Yuuri,” Mme. Baranovskaya says sarcastically, “now back to work!” she claps her hands twice, and the chorus get back to what they were doing before – which was not a lot.

“Was it so bad this time?” Viktor asks Yuuri, who shrugs.

“No. I suppose…” he pauses, glances around the room.

There is a certain type of unity that comes from being in a cast. They are all in it together, the large roles and the small. It’s a community, one that is inherently accepting. Yuuri has been far less nervous before rehearsals recently, probably for this very reason. They are used to each other now, a cohesive unit that is still finding its feet, but is secure in the knowledge of its own unity. Yuuri feels like he belongs.

“We’re all friends here,” he continues, and smiles as he realises the truth of his own words, “so I guess I knew that no one was really judging me?”

“See!” Viktor cries, “that’s exactly the attitude I was hoping for!” And he flings his arms around Yuuri in a warm embrace.

Yuuri doesn’t know when exactly he became so _used_ to the casual intimacy which Viktor brings to their relationship. He noticed it first, really, when Viktor come to his house, but he feels it even more strongly now. It is, he suspects, part of Viktor’s method acting ploy, because he’s not quite so touchy-feely with his friends – then again, maybe not. Viktor hasn’t actually mentioned anything at all about method acting since that one incident in the dressing room, and Yuuri half suspects that he’s actually forgotten about it.

Mme. Baranovskaya interrupts Yuuri’s musing by clapping her hands at them. Viktor releases Yuuri and they get back into position to reset the scene.

 

* * *

 

Over the next few weeks, the production really starts to come together. Everyone is scripts down and lines are cohesive. Most people know their entrances and exits, although there are still a few incidents of students running haphazardly across the stage in the middle of a scene to get to their place. Yuuri and Viktor continue to work on their choreography, and start teaching it to the rest of the cast.

At first Yuuri is nervous to be standing in front of his school mates telling them all what to do, but Viktor is there to help. He smooths the way, laughing and joking but never being anything other than serious with the choreography, and Yuuri is incredibly grateful for him. Mme. Baranovskaya was right – the dancing is hard, and not everyone in the cast gets the hang of it quickly. In a lunchtime practise only a week or so before opening night, Yuuri assigns Viktor to lead everyone from the front of the room, whilst he goes around to help out the people who are still struggling. There is year eleven boy whose face is flushed with embarrassment as he constantly gets things wrong – Yuuri really feels for him. But he starts to get the hang of it with Yuuri there to help him, and Yuuri watches him proudly as they run through the dance the final time before the bell rings.

Afterwards, just after everyone has dispersed and Viktor and Yuuri are getting changed, Viktor pulls him in for a quick hug. This is somewhat alarming to Yuuri, as Viktor isn’t wearing a shirt.

“You’re a good teacher, Yuuri,” Viktor tells him, “you’re so kind and patient.”

“Oh,” Yuuri looks down at his feet, “thanks?”

“Why do you say that like it’s a question?” Viktor laughs, at last putting his shirt on and taking his hair out of its messy bun so he can retie it.

“I – it’s not, I just,” Yuuri struggles to explain. But then he sees that Viktor is smiling at him, hair tie in his mouth as he loops his hair on top of his head, and knows that he doesn’t actually need to explain.

“Thanks,” he says again. Viktor removes the hair tie from his mouth and grins.

“That’s better,” he says softly.

 

* * *

 

That afternoon, as Yuuri tries to navigate through the throngs of students in the carpark, Viktor calls after him. He turns to see the older boy pushing politely through a pair of year nine.

“Hey Yuuri,” he says, “I have a craving for ice cream.”

“You always have a craving for ice cream,” Yuuri deadpans.

“I know,” Viktor sighs, “isn’t it tragic? Come with me to get ice cream, Yuuri.”

“Ah…okay,” Yuuri blinks, even as his stomach twists around in excitement at the opportunity to spend a little more time with Viktor.

“Have you ever been to Duck Island?” Viktor asks as they change direction to walk towards Viktor’s car.

“No, but I’ve always wanted to,” Yuuri confesses.

“Yay!” Viktor bounces up onto the balls of his feet in glee, “oh, it’s the best. You’ll love it!”

“I’m sure I will,” Yuuri says. As they walk, Viktor tells him about every single flavour he has ever tried from the boutique ice cream parlour. Yuuri’s eyes get wider and wider.

“How do you eat this much ice cream,” he interrupts, “and not get fat?”

“Just lucky I guess,” Viktor says with a wink. Yuuri sighs.

“I’m jealous. I put on weight so easily.”

“Really?” Viktor stops, and his eyes drift from Yuuri’s down to his feet and back again.

“Yea,” Yuuri laughs awkwardly, and rubs the back of his head, “I know it doesn’t look like it now, but I have a slow metabolism or something.”

“That must suck,” Viktor says blithely. This response is so typical Viktor that Yuuri huffs out a laugh.

“You bet,” he says, and follows Viktor into the car.

 

Viktor sings under his breath to the songs on the radio as they drive. It’s a short trip, made longer by the school traffic, but neither of them mind. Yuuri just likes being in the car with Viktor – it’s become one of his favourite things. He likes getting the opportunity to be close to Viktor, even if they don’t say anything. Just sharing the same space is enough.

As seems to be customary for him, Viktor sheds his tie and blazer as soon as he gets in the car, and the breeze from the open car window ruffles his shirt. Yuuri has almost given up pretending that he’s not watching. Viktor glances over at him a few times. Sometimes Yuuri looks away in time, other times Viktor catches him. Every time they make eye contact, Viktor smiles. He’s totally tone deaf, too, but Yuuri doesn’t mind that either. He undoes his own tie, and knots it idly between his hands as he looks out of the window, across at Viktor, anywhere and everywhere.

When they arrive, Viktor parallel parks badly, but just grimaces and doesn’t bother to straighten up. Instead, he just shoves his keys in his pocket and goes bounding up the stairs to the ice cream parlour. Yuuri follows a little more sedately.

The interior of the little corner store is painted a creamy pale pink, with gold accents. There is one long table in the middle of the room, parallel to a bar in the window and the short ice cream display which Viktor makes a beeline for.

Yuuri has long since learned that ice cream and coffee are Viktor’s two favourite foods – if coffee counts as a food, which…?

Yuuri asks Viktor.

“Of course it does,” he replies, with a wink a smile, “help me choose which flavour to get, Yuuri.”

“I don’t know,” Yuuri says, coming to stand beside him, “you’re the one that’s been here before, not me!”

“So unhelpful,” Viktor sighs. Yuuri just shrugs.

In the end, Viktor gets lemon poppy seed and buttermilk. Yuuri gets coconut chocolate and gooseberry sorbet. He and Viktor take their ice-creams into the park, and sit down in the shade of the large oak trees to enjoy their snack.

“Thanks for this, Viktor,” Yuuri says. He’s facing the sun, and has to squint a little to see Viktor clearly.

“For what?” Viktor asks.

“Well, for driving us here,” Yuuri says, “and for hanging out with me, I guess.”

“Yuuri,” Viktor says. He moves his head until it blocks out the sun, and Yuuri can see his face properly. For once, he looks completely serious.

“You don’t need to thank me for wanting to spend time with you,” he says. Yuuri shrugs, and eats some more of his ice cream. But Viktor doesn’t change the subject, he just holds his ice cream and watches Yuuri with a little worried frown on his face.

“What?” Yuuri asks after a moment.

“I mean it,” Viktor says, “Yuuri, I _like_ spending time with you. I like you.” He says it so seriously, too. His fingers convulse a little on his cup as he speaks, and then he takes a deep breath. The way he looks at Yuuri then is so _soft_ , and gentle, that Yuuri has to look away. He looks down at his lap instead. He can accept that Viktor likes him - he can accept that Viktor is happy to be his friend. It feels a little surreal, still. But he knows Viktor now – knows most of his idiosyncrasies and quirks, like the way he’s always late (except whenever he’s picking Yuuri up), or the way he likes to hug people, or the way…well. He knows Viktor well enough now to have a crush of epic proportions.

“I like spending time with you too, Viktor,” he manages to say.

“Yuuri,” Viktor sighs. Yuuri looks up. Viktor has folded himself over one knee, in the way he likes to sit – see, Yuuri knows these things now – and is looking at Yuuri with…sadness? Disappointment? Yuuri eats more ice cream, because he doesn’t want to think about what he might have done to upset Viktor now.

“Okay,” Viktor says after a bit, and starts eating his ice cream again, “I have a question.”

“Yeah?”

“How does R&J make you feel?”

“Huh?”

“Not the play itself,” Viktor elaborates, “but being in it. I know you sometimes don’t feel confident, or don’t…don’t like yourself – obviously, or I wouldn’t keep yelling about you in public – but does being in the play make you feel worse, or better?”

“Um,” Yuuri frowns, “I haven’t really thought, but…both? I still get anxious before rehearsals,” he admits.

“Really?”

“Mmn. It’s irrational, because I know they’re fine, but…I don’t know,” Yuuri shrugs his shoulder up and down like he’s trying to shake a weight off, “on the other hand, getting to be in the spotlight kind of gives me a kick, too? I don’t get it, it’s weird, but true.”

“Hmn,” Viktor muses. He doesn’t seem inclined to say anything else on the matter, so tentatively Yuuri says: “Viktor, can I ask you a question, too?”

“Of course, Yuuri. You can ask me anything,” he says sincerely.

“Why do you dislike your birthmark so much? I mean, I know you said you don’t like it because it’s ugly but…why does it matter?”

Viktor attempts to deflect answering.

“Do you like my birthmark, Yuuri?” he asks. His voice is light, teasing, but his eyes are a little unsure.

“Yes,” Yuuri answers without hesitating.

“Why?” Viktor frowns.

“Because it’s just part of who you are,” Yuuri admits, “now answer the question.”

“Ah, okay,” Viktor sighs, delays for a moment as he finishes off his ice cream, and then frowns.

“It makes me feel less confident,” he finally admits, “which maybe makes me a bit of a hypocrite? Does it, do you think? I’m trying so hard to make you feel confident, but I can’t stand to show my arm because I’m scared of what people will think.”

He looks…vulnerable. It’s not a side of Viktor that Yuuri has ever seen before, and he doesn’t know how to react. He’s a little confused, too, because if Viktor can acknowledge that he has some issues of his own, why is he trying so damn hard to make Yuuri feel better about himself? His confusion must show on his face, because Viktor smiles. It’s not a happy smile, per se, but his lips turn up and his eyes sparkle a little. Slowly he reaches out and brushes his fingers against the back of Yuuri’s hand. He is asking permission without asking aloud.

Yuuri hesitates, because that’s what he always does, but Viktor just waits for him. Slowly, cautiously, Yuuri flips his hand over so Viktor can lace their fingers together. The feeling sends a little sherbet fizz straight to Yuuri’s stomach. Viktor moves slowly, curiously, like he’s trying the hand-holding on for size. He examines their interlinked fingers, but Yuuri can’t quite read the expression on his face.

Viktor has never touched him like this before. When he’s being Romeo, he’s so confident. His touches are sensual and sure, but this…this is different. Acting on a sudden impulse (and before he can think better of it), Yuuri circles his thumb slowly down the length of Viktor’s, pausing briefly over the jumping pulse in his wrist, before swiping back up again. Viktor makes a tiny little noise in his throat.

He allows himself to think, just for a moment, about what kissing Viktor might be like. Right now, he would taste of sugar and cream. Yuuri thinks about tugging Viktor closer, stroking his beautiful platinum hair, breathing in the skin where his collar opens over his delicate collarbone. He has thought about doing this many times before – kissing Viktor, touching Viktor – but he has never wanted it so badly as he wants it in this moment. He swallows. Viktor squeezes his hand hard.

Tentatively, Viktor reaches up with his left hand, and starts pushing his shirt off of his shoulder. For a moment, Yuuri is totally baffled by what he is doing, but then he understands. Reluctantly, he lets go of Viktor’s hand. Once Viktor’s birthmark is totally exposed, Yuuri just looks at it.

“It’s only you,” he says. Viktor presses his cheek into his own shoulder and peers across at Yuuri guardedly. Cautiously, Yuuri reaches across and hovers his hand over the purple port-wine stain. When Viktor nods, he trails his finger around the edge of it, just the barest touch against skin. Viktor shivers slightly.

“It’s only you,” Yuuri repeats, and at last – at _last_ – he looks into Viktor’s eyes.

Viktor flings himself at Yuuri, wrapping his arms around the younger boy’s neck and squeezing him tightly. Yuuri finds his face is buried in Viktor’s exposed shoulder. Acting on impulse again, he presses a light kiss to his skin, and then rears back.

“I’m sorry,” he says. He knows he’s blushing scarlet, can’t believe he just…

“Oh, Yuuri,” Viktor says softly, “it’s fine.”

He’s beaming at Yuuri, and Yuuri can’t tell if it’s because he’s trying to make him feel better, or…

“But hey,” Viktor says, and waggles his finger with a wink, “remember what Miss O said, Yuuri! No kissing until dress rehearsal!”

 

* * *

 

The dress rehearsal in question comes around far too quickly for comfort. Suddenly it’s the weekend before opening night, and everything is too fast and too bright and too loud, but there’s no room for the bitter sweetness of endings because here and now there is work to be done.

Everyone arrives early on Sunday morning and gathers in the main dressing room. There are bags of clothes and food littered all over the floor, which get hastily shoved into the corners when the students responsible for hair and makeup arrive to roll tarps out across the floor. This causes something of a stir, as a few of the hair and makeup students are girls. The younger members of the chorus find themselves slightly tongue-tied and awestruck. The principal cast are all friends with said girls, and derive some satisfaction from being seen to be on friendly terms with such strange and rare creatures.

Viktor introduces Yuuri to his good friend Mila, who has red hair and a kind smile, and proclaims Yuuri to be “so cute!”

Yuuri doesn’t know how he feels about this.

The other two makeup girls are Georgi’s ex-girlfriend Anya, and Mickey’s sister Sara, who also apparently thinks Yuuri is very cute. To Mickey’s immense irritation, she follows him around and talks to him enthusiastically about anything and everything. Her attention is only diverted when it is Seung-gil’s turn to have his makeup applied, which she leaves to do with great excitement.

“Sorry about Sara,” Mila says, as she watches Yuuri blend his foundation with a critical eye, “we love her, but she can be a bit much if you’re not used to her.” For some reason, her eyes flick to Viktor as she says this. Yuuri is too nervous to be bothered to question it.

Made up and costumed, they all file into the hall. The set is looking magnificent. Risers have been set up on either side of a traverse stage, and scaffolding runs along the top of them to create the space for the chorus. It is underneath these risers that the cast will wait in between scenes, and travel underneath them to get to their appropriate entrance and exit points.

On either end of the traverse, swathes of creamy white and sky blue and blush pink fabric have been draped around buttery lights to create a strange, airy sort of space. There are blocks that have been decorated with feathers and fairy lights to add to the atmosphere. It looks incredible, and although Yuuri has seen it a couple of times at various stages of dress and undress, the stage at full completion takes his breath away.

Viktor and Chris wander up to the other end of the stage, and stand on some of the boxes. Chris stretches his leg behind him. Viktor grabs it and helps lift him into a split. Otabek joins them, and starts to offer sarcastic critiques. Yuuri stands with Leo, and the two of them touch the soft fabric that is hung artfully across the main doorway from which the audience will enter and exit. Leo absently lifts a swathe of it up, and curls it underneath his face.

“Gorgeous,” Yuuri grins, and Leo kicks out at him with a laugh.

“Alright,” Miss Okukawa calls, several times before the cast all come back together again and fall silent.

“I want to get through the whole show twice,” Miss Okukawa tell them all, “Mme. Baranovskaya and I will be watching and taking notes, but we will not halt the production. We just want you to run it through as smoothly as you can, and we’ll address everything else later. We won’t have mic’s today, so you all need to work on your projection. Ready to go?”

Everyone responds with carrying degrees of confidence, and they disperse underneath the risers to get in position for the opening scene. Phichit, Guang-Hong and Yuuri start out from the inbuilt stage at the back of the hall, so they go and sit cross legged in the darkness. Phichit helps Yuuri stretch in the dark, as the rehearsal gets underway.

The three of them have built up a comfortable repertoire on the stage, probably because they’ve all been friends for four years, so the first scene goes off without a hitch. It’s less physical than some of the later scenes, much more dialogue based. Phichit is hilarious as the nurse, and Yuuri has to concentrate quite hard in order not to laugh. He also has to avoid Guang-Hong’s eye on more than one occasion for this exact reason.

He feels less and less like Yuuri as the scene progresses, and more and more like Juliet. This does not however prevent him from being worried about the ball scene, which draws closer and closer with every line. He and Viktor will be kissing for the first time in this rehearsal, and he’s… nervous about it. Really, really nervous. Up until now, he hasn’t given it much thought – or he has, but only in the abstract. This morning in particular, he’d been far too busy to think about the reality that today is the day on which he will be kissing Viktor.

But then the ball scene is upon him, and there’s no room for thought. He just has to act.

There are some serious hiccups in the scene. Mainly this is the fault of the chorus, who have had to learn some pretty difficult choreography. There are _lots_ of timing issues with the dancing. Yuuri knows Mme. Baranovskaya will _not_ be impressed. He himself seems to be having a little trouble – he hasn’t stretched enough, and his knees are stiff.

But it does work, the choreography that Yuuri thought up – and Viktor is a beautiful dancer. Yuuri can’t see overly well, because he hasn’t brought his contacts today, but even he can see this. They come together, come apart – Viktor’s hands are warm on his waist, if too fleeting. Yuuri delivers his lines, and Viktor his, and his heart is raging in his ears so loudly that _surely_ Viktor must hear it.

When they finally kiss, it’s a little awkward. It’s not a very good angle, and Yuuri thinks that it must be quite painful for Viktor’s nose, squashed awkwardly like that against his cheek – but then he stops thinking. Just for a second. He keeps his eyes open, but he sees that Viktor does not. There is no tongue, only the brush of lips – this time. But the next time, it is more. It is supposed to be more; they had planned it to be more – but impassively planning a kiss is not the same as doing it.

Viktor tastes of peppermint. As Romeo, he does not kiss gently – but his hands are careful on Yuuri’s back. Yuuri has not told Viktor that this dress rehearsal is his first proper experience with kissing. Viktor leads, and he follows – he does not think that he is bad. Or at least, he would not – he does not have room for thought.

 

And on it goes. They do not break for intermission, like they will in the later performance. They just keep going, straight through. Yuuri’s heart is accelerated throughout – from adrenaline, from nerves, from the exertion of his and Viktor’s physical theatre. Every scene that he has with Phichit lightens the mood, breaks the tension in his shoulders. Phichit is so _good_. Yuuri has enough room in his head to be fleetingly in awe of his friends acting.

The scene that Yuuri has been both dreading and perversely looking forward to is the death scene. The rotating platform they will use in the performances is not yet ready, so the scene must instead take place on the floor. Yuuri lies still, with his eyes closed, and feels Viktor’s hands on his body, on his face. And then, for his turn, relishes the opportunity to touch Viktor like a lover, even though he is not. They have not rehearsed this, but Yuuri brushes his thumb across Viktor’s lips. They are a little chapped. It would be invisible to anyone but him, but Viktor jumps slightly when the pad of Yuuri’s thumb catches on the peeling skin. It is a wonderful thing, theatre. It allows for reality to be disguised in make-believe. This is not Yuuri touching Viktor, it is Juliet touching Romeo – but all the same.

During the last scene, Yuuri and Viktor are not present. They are the only two people under their riser – they can break character now. Viktor rolls from his back onto his hands and knees and reaches his arms out towards Yuuri. His hands brush against Yuri’s cheeks and for a dizzying second Yuuri thinks Viktor will kiss him (the taste of his tongue is fresh still in Yuuri’s mouth), but then Viktor presses his lips against Yuuri’s cheek instead. Yuuri hugs him tightly – can’t say anything, but is grateful for the darkness to hide his flaming cheeks.

 

When they stop between the two run-throughs for lunch, Yuuri does not get a chance to debrief with Phichit, Leo and Guang-Hong privately. They sit in a big messy group with the rest of the principal cast, swapping food and tips and observations. Yuuri does not deliberately look at Viktor, but sees him anyway. Sees the slight flush in his cheeks – from the heat, Yuuri thinks. Sees the way he shows Otabek something on his phone, sees the way he laughs at one of Mickey’s stupid jokes with his head thrown back.

Mila, Sara and Anya stayed to watch the dress rehearsal performance, and they are sitting with them too. Yuuri talks to Sara about it – discovers that she really is very nice, if a little full on. He watches the way Mila kneels behind Viktor’s back and hangs her arms over his shoulders and poses for a picture with him. He wonders if there is history there. Hopes sincerely that there isn’t.

And then it is time for a second run through. They do it all again, and this time Yuuri is ready for the kisses, is better able to respond – knows what he is doing now. In a way it feels more impersonal this time around, which is not a bad thing. They are slightly more in character, slightly less themselves. This is better, and worse. Better because that is after all the point of all this, and Yuuri’s objective side is aware of the need to work on the minutiae of his acting. Worse, because Yuuri craves Viktor so badly, wants to kiss him for real, wants _him_ for real. But there is no room for any of that now – Yuuri has a job to do, and damned if he’s going to be anything other than spectacular.

And then, finally, it’s over. They take off their makeup and gather their things, and it is time to go. Viktor and Yuuri don’t say anything at first as they walk to his car, but then Viktor turns to Yuuri says: “I’m so proud of you!”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve come so far,” Viktor says, “as an actor, and as Juliet. You did so well!”

“So did you!” Yuuri says emphatically, “I didn’t quite know what to expect, with the dress rehearsal? But everyone did so well. Especially you.”

Viktor beams at him, so soft and warm and happy. Yuuri smiles back.

“I’m so excited for the rest of the week,” Viktor says, as he drives.

“Oh, me too,” Yuuri agrees, “I have no idea how I’m going to survive four nights in a row plus the tech rehearsal tomorrow, though.”

“You won’t,” Viktor says cheerfully, “come Friday you’ll be totally wrecked.”

“Thanks for that,” Yuuri says wryly. Viktor giggles.

“Just telling it how it is,” he says.

 

The tech rehearsal on Monday evening sees Yuuri mic’ed up for the first time. He’s never gotten to wear a headset before, and is inordinately excited about it. Phichit films a snapchat video of him jumping up and down as one of the tech students tries to attach it to his butt.

“You’re such a nerd, Yuuri,” Phichit says in the background, as Yuuri grins.

“For God’s sake,” the tech student says in exasperation, “I get it, you have a great butt, now stop waggling it and stand still!”

Yuuri freezes, mortified. Phichit just cackles.

The tech student, who Yuuri learns is called Stephen, finishes clipping up the mic and moves off towards Phichit. Yuuri, deprived of his bantering companion, goes in search of someone else to talk to. Otabek is being talked at by JJ, and Yuuri decides to go and rescue him.

“…and I know that if I was doing it, I wouldn’t be as loud – hey Yuuri,” JJ interrupts himself as Yuuri approaches, “I was just talking to Otabek about how I think he should do his role…”

“Don’t you think it’s a bit late for that?” Yuuri asks, glancing between him and a thoroughly unimpressed Otabek. It’s not that Yuuri dislikes JJ – it’s just he can be a bit of an egoist at times, and production isn’t helping.

“Oh, I don’t know,” JJ says airily, “there’s always time for improvement!”

“Right,” Yuuri says dryly. Otabek catches his eye. Yuuri has never been a master at reading other people’s facial expressions, and usually he’d be completely stumped reading someone as stoic as Otabek usually is, but this time he can interpret Otabek’s look with ease. Get me out of here, he is saying. Yuuri is only too happy to oblige.

“Hey, Otabek,” he says, “Stephen just wanted to check something with your mic.”

“Okay,” Otabek says, and brushes past. He seizes Yuuri’s elbow as he goes, and spins the younger boy around to follow him. Neatly avoiding a stumble, Yuuri trots after him. Otabek doesn’t thank him, just let’s out an irritated huff as soon as they are far enough away from JJ for the other boy not to overhear.

“What?” Georgi, who is standing nearby, asks.

“Fucking JJ,” Otabek explains, “giving me acting advice. What the hell.”

“Ugh, what a child,” Georgi rolls his eyes, “as if he knows anything.”

“That’s a bit much,” Yuuri interjects. Both boys turn and look at him. He shrugs awkwardly in the face of their stares, but continues, “he’s not a bad person really. Anyway, what right have you got to judge him for his age when he’s older than I am?”

Otabek and Georgi are both floored by this. Yuuri smiles awkwardly.

“I know he’s been annoying lately, but…” here he trails off into a shrug. Otabek blinks, and then he shrugs too.

“I’ll take your word for it,” he says. Georgi looks like he’d much prefer to keep on bitching about JJ, but any potential awkwardness is averted when Miss O calls the rehearsal to order. They cannot do a full run through in two hours, mics or otherwise, so instead they speed-run through scenes that have as many characters as possible, so everyone can get used to wearing their mics.

The tech rehearsal is also for the purpose of testing out the staging, and the scenes with the more complicated elements of that are also run through. This includes the suicide scene. Since the death itself is being staged on a revolving platform, it requires quite a lot of logistical effort. It proves much more difficult that anyone had anticipated.

Yuuri must clamber onto it in the dark, so as to appear to be well and truly dead before the stage lights fade on. The platform is painted black, and proves elusive. Yuuri walks a few quick steps with his hands out at waist height. On his fourth step he slams his knees hard into the edge of the modified spool and gasps in pain. This is transmitted through his microphone, along with muffled swear words.

One of the stagehands sticks his head out from underneath the spool to ask if he is alright. Yuuri is standing in the dark, hands on his knees, gasping for breath as bolts of sticky hot pain shoot from his knees up into his stomach. The stage lights fade in slowly. Yuuri is not prostate on the platform where he is supposed to be. He is instead fighting back the instinctive tears of pain as a disembodied head offers him advice from underneath a repurposed wire spool.

Viktor, poised to come onstage, is at his side in an instant. He presses one hand to the small of Yuuri’s back, and asks him if he is alright.

“Fine,” Yuuri says through gritted teeth, “it’ll pass in a sec.”

“What did you do?” Viktor asks.

“Can’t see in the dark,” Yuuri says. He tries to straighten up experimentally. The pain that lances through his legs is nauseating, but lessened greatly already.

“I’m going to have some nice bruises though,” he says conversationally, as the house lights come on. Miss O asks him if he is okay. After a moment of discussion, it is decided they will do a different scene for a few minutes, and a sheepish Yuuri is presented with two ice packs.

Viktor keeps him company on the risers. He worries at a hangnail with his teeth as Yuuri stretches out his legs with a hiss.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Viktor asks at the sound.

“Mmn,” Yuuri nods, “I kind of do this a lot. It’s a bit like hitting your funny bone – it makes you feel sick, but it doesn’t last.”

“Do what a lot?” Viktor frowns.

“Hit my knees,” Yuuri explains. An odd look passes briefly across Viktor’s face, and Yuuri hastens to explain: “Falling, mostly. Missteps in ballet, tripping down the stairs, that sort of thing.”

“Oh,” Viktor laughs, “so you have a signature injury?”

“It’s not really an _injury_ ,” Yuuri says, “more of an inconvenience.”

Viktor tips his head to the side and surveys Yuuri slowly. It is a strange sort of once over – he looks first at Yuuri’s knees, and then his gaze travels slowly up until he’s looking into Yuuri’s eyes.

“If there’s icepacks,” he says, “it’s an injury.” He pauses for a second, and then grins.

He’s sitting one step below Yuuri, which allows him to do what he does next, which is to pry the ice packs out of Yuuri’s unresisting hands and kiss first his left knee, and then his right. Just a light peck on the frozen skin of each knee, but it’s enough to make Yuuri’s body flood with heat.

“What did you do that for?” he asks. Viktor smiles up at him, shiny and sweet.

“I was kissing them better,” he says.

Yuuri is completely arrested by this. He just stares at Viktor, and then stares at his knees, and then looks back at Viktor, as if somehow he believes that the brush of Viktor’s lips against his skin really will magically make his knees hurt less. The pain has receded almost entirely regardless.

“Thanks,” he says quietly, belatedly.

When Viktor smiles at him this time, it is not the bold and charming smile that is his default. It is smaller, and gentler, and Yuuri is utterly captivated. Viktor is folded up with his elbow draped over his knee and his head tipped to one side as he looks up at Yuuri. They might be the only two people in the world. Yuuri wishes fiercely that they were.

But then Miss O comes to check on him, and the ice is returned to the freezer, and it is time to run the scene again. This time Yuuri counts his steps and it is his fingers that brush the spool first. He pulls himself upright and lies across the platform with his eyes closed, and this time when the lights come out the scene can progress.

There are less artistic elements in this scene – it is all about the character. Viktor cradles Yuuri as he says his lines, and if his flop forward is a little overdramatic, no one is complaining. When Juliet awakes, it is Yuuri’s turn to touch Viktor gently, to be what Yuuri himself cannot. It doesn’t feel real, not quite yet – but it will. On opening night there won’t be any rustling of scripts and whispers from the cast members underneath the risers. There will just be Romeo and Juliet.

Yuuri’s fingers brush against Viktor’s lips and then skim down the side of his neck as Yuuri kisses him. On the platform, as he delivers his lines with his mouth still tingling, Yuuri’s stomach contracts with an emotion he doesn’t know how to pinpoint. It doesn’t quite feel like anxiety.

When they’ve finished the scene and their characters are dead, the platform is rolled away by the stage hands with Viktor and Yuuri playing dead on top of it. They are deposited underneath the risers nearest to the doors. Left to their own devices and completely alone as the final scene is played out with the full cast, the boys scramble down from the platform. Sitting in the dark on the floor, surrounded by a forest of metal poles and shadows, Viktor puts an arm around Yuuri’s shoulder.

“So I’ve been thinking,” he whispers, “about tomorrow.”

“So have I,” Yuuri replies. Confession comes easier under cover of darkness. Viktor huffs a little laugh.

“Tell me your thoughts,” he says.

“I’m worried I’ll mess up,” Yuuri says, “I’m worried I won’t be able to recover if I _do_ mess up.”

“You won’t,” he says confidently, “but if you do, I can work with whatever you give me.”

“Yes, I know,” Yuuri says, and for a fraction of a moment a small hot stab of something like jealousy at Viktor’s ease with acting knifes through his heart. But then Viktor tightens his grip across Yuuri’s shoulders and props his cheek against the top of Yuuri’s head.

“We’re going to be the best,” he says, “that’s what _I’ve_ been thinking about. We make a hot couple. Everyone’s going to be shook.”

Yuuri snorts. “I can’t believe you just said that.”

“What – that we make a hot couple? Because we _totally_ do.”

Yuuri finds he’s not quite as flustered in the dark.

“I meant shook,” he said, “nobody actually _says_ that. What are you, a walking meme?”

“Yes,” Viktor says to make Yuuri laugh.

The scene ends, and the boys crawl out from underneath the riser. Rehearsal is over, and tomorrow it will all begin for real.

 

* * *

 

Yuuri and his friends do not go home after school on Tuesday. There is little point, as they need to be back in an hour for makeup anyway. Instead, Leo leads the way from their English class in C block across the quad and into the drama corridor. There is a palpable air of excitement in the hallway, as the last dregs of students pass through on their way home, and those staying make themselves comfortable on the floor in the dressing rooms. As Yuuri and Co push open the door, they are met by Zach, the year eleven boy who had so much trouble with the choreography. He is holding several boxes of donuts. Leo glances hopefully at him as he passes.

“Do you want one?’ Zach asks him. Leo is delighted to be presented with a donut. Zach offers one to the rest of Yuuri’s group too.

“Thanks again for helping me with the choreography,” he tells Yuuri, “I’m a little worried about tonight though.”

“We can go over it later, if you like,” Yuuri offers with a smile.

“Yeah,” Zach shuffles his feet, “that’d be really good. Thanks Yuuri.”

Inside the main dressing room, a little cluster of year thirteens look around as Leo parts the curtain. Yuuri is too busy trying to eat his donut without getting powder all over his face (impossible) to work out who is there, but Leo heads over towards them and the rest follow.

“Hey y’all,” Leo drapes an arm over Seung-gil’s shoulder, “what’s up?”

“We’re going to get dinner,” Seung-gil says. He detaches Leo with a shake of his arm.

“It’s half-past three,” Yuuri points out with a mouthful of jam.

“Substantial afternoon tea, then,” Mickey rolls his eyes.

“Well, are you in or out?” Chris asks.

“I’m always keen for food,” Yuuri says, and his friends quickly agree.

They wait on the rest of the principal cast before they leave – Viktor is late as usual, and Georgi and Emil are with him. Minami is rounded up from his group of friends, JJ is extracted from a phone call with his girlfriend, and they all head off to the carpark together. Yuuri goes automatically to the passenger seat of Viktor’s car.

“You didn’t call shotgun,” Chris says, pretending to be deeply wounded as he slides into the backseat.

“Yuuri’s always shotgun,” Viktor says as he turns his keys in the ignition. He winks at Yuuri as he says this, and Yuuri cannot help but feel…something. Being in the car with Viktor has become so routine over the last couple of months. Viktor doesn’t even move to adjust the radio anymore, because he knows that Yuuri will always do it. It is a little routine, but a routine all the same.

As they drive, he and Viktor and Chris and Mickey and Guang-Hong all squashed up in Viktor’s Suzuki, Yuuri feels like he is a part of something magical. Outside of time. The windows are down, the best songs of the summer are playing loudly over the radio, the sun streams in warm and luscious on his face and arms. The car is filled with laughter and inside jokes and little exchanged glances with Viktor. Yuuri closes his eyes, and drinks it all in.

 

* * *

 

There is no feeling in the world like opening night. The community of the cast is at its most cohesive, and the excitement is so thick that it coats the tongue and tastes like candy. Then again, Yuuri has eaten so much that the taste in his mouth is more likely to be jelly snakes than some palpable flavour of excitement.

He is beginning to regret accepting junk food from various random chorus members as he sits in costume in front of Anya, who is doing his makeup for opening night. The small dressing room is buzzing as various cast members come and go. Every single light is on, and the room seems twice as packed due to the mirrored walls. Yuuri glances left and right at the brightly coloured costumes and makeup pots and tries to find something to focus on so he doesn’t start freaking out.

In the end he just closes his eyes, and breathes heavily through his nose.

He is worried about a lot of things – he is worried he’ll screw up his lines, or his steps, or that something will go horribly wrong and a light will fall on his head or something. He’s worried that the audience will hate him, he’s worried the audience will hate what they’ve done with the interpretation, he’s just so _worried_ about everything in general. He _knows_ that his worries are, on the whole, unfounded. But still, the anxiety claws at his throat and is making it hard to breathe.

Or maybe that’s just the stuffiness of the room, packed with people and the stench of heavy-duty hairspray.

Anya sprays a little of it on his face to set his stage makeup, and Yuuri very nearly chokes on the cloying smell. He thinks Anya asks him if he is okay – and he thinks he answers her, but he doesn’t know. His heartbeat is too loud in his ears.

As soon as his makeup and hair are done, he excuses himself. The corridor is a little less crowded – people are busy dashing back and forth, but no one is lingering. It is too close to 7pm, and suddenly everyone is frantic. Yuuri needs to get away, he needs to breathe…

 

Viktor finds Yuuri a few minutes before curtain call, squashed up in the corner of the unused second drama room with his head between his knees. Of course it’s Viktor, Yuuri thinks blearily as he sees stares at the approaching bejewelled tights that are Viktor’s costume. Of _course_ it couldn’t be Phichit, or even someone to tough talk him like Seung-gil or Otabek would.

But it seems that Viktor does know how to appropriately deal with stage fright.

He comes and stands in front of Yuuri and folds his arms.

“Yuuu-ri,” he says.

“I can’t look up at you,” Yuuri says miserably, “I might throw up.”

“Uh, no you won’t,” says Viktor, He crouches down (one of his knees cracks loudly and makes Yuuri jump) and seizes Yuuri’s hands in both of his. With a tug, he pulls Yuuri upright.

“Come on,” Viktor tucks Yuuri under his arm and starts towing him towards the door, “You’ll be fine as soon as you get onstage. I promise.”

“I know,” Yuuri says. Viktor stops and turns and stares at him.

“I didn’t say my anxiety was rational,” Yuuri says, and shrugs feebly, “it just kind of…is.”

“Oh,” Viktor says, and frowns. He glances around the room, and spies a bottle sitting on the edge of the sink. He goes and fills it, and brings it back to Yuuri, instructing him to sip.

“Whose bottle is this?”

“No idea,”

“Ew, Viktor, that’s gross.”

“Yuuri, this is theatre, everyone shares everything. Even glando, probably.”

“Which is exactly what I’m afraid of,” Yuuri points out, but he drinks anyway. Sipping the water calms his stomach, steadies his breathing. Or maybe it’s Viktor that does that, distracting him from his worry as he stands there, waving his arms around, and telling stupid stories about all the people he knows who’ve had glandular fever. When Yuuri is smiling again, Viktor takes the bottle from him and throws it in the direction of the sink, and leads the way out. Yuuri pauses on the threshold of the dressing room, and Viktor looks back at him.

“It’s time to go Yuuri,” he says kindly.

“Viktor,” Yuuri says suddenly. It’s sort of like an exhalation – he’s grappling an indescribable feeling, and the only thing that makes sense to him is Viktor’s name. Viktor comes back towards him, and pauses for a second with his hand halfway raised, like he wants to…After a second, he reaches for Yuuri’s hand, and brings it to his lips.

“Just think about kissing me,” he mumbles huskily, lips brushing against Yuuri’s knuckles, “that should be enough to keep you going until you get onto the stage.”

He drops Yuuri’s hand with a feather light grin and spins away, running down the hallway to jump onto Chris’ back and yell something to the last few loitering members of the cast who have not yet gone to the stage, who all cheer. Yuuri stands in the doorway with his hand still stretched out in front of him. His blood is singing. Viktor glances over his shoulder as Chris heads out the door, inclines his head in the direction of the stage in a silent ‘come on’. Yuuri smiles, and runs after him.

 

And it is okay. Of course it is. Viktor disappears onto the stage before he does, whisking away out from underneath the risers in a gleam of silver of blue. Yuuri sits with Phichit and Guang-Hong, crouching ready and silent underneath the feet of the excited audience, glancing at each other every now and again to mouth along with the lines they have all inadvertently memorised over the course of the last ten weeks. And then it’s time.

It doesn’t go completely perfectly – things like this never do. One of the year elevens in the chorus misses his cue and there’s an awkward pause. Guang-Hong nearly falls over, but Mickey catches him and it works so well that they decide after the fact to do it on the following nights performances, too. And then it’s Yuuri and Viktor’s first dance scene.

Yuuri focuses on doing what he has to. He’s thinking so hard about his character, and the moves, that he forgets everything else. Everything else except Viktor, or Romeo, who is so beautiful under the bright stage lights.

He can’t see Romeo’s eyes from this far away as he dances the Eros routine, but he knows that they are fixed on him.

And then they are dancing together, and at one point Juliet stumbles slightly and Romeo catches him, weaves it into the routine so that Juliet’s leg is raised and Romeo is holding all of his weight in one hand. And this isn’t where they’re supposed to kiss, but they do, because it works. It is totally impersonal, but a tiny bit of Yuuri’s Juliet façade is cracked away by the hungry, open-mouthed kiss that Romeo drags him in to.

And on the performance goes.

The physicality of it is hard work. They have spent so long practising the physical elements, but ten weeks isn’t really enough, and in some places it doesn’t work as well as they had hoped. But the character and the lines flow beautifully, and Yuuri is aware in the back of his mind that the audience are enraptured.

That scene that he always found both the best and the hardest to act is the death scene. But this time, he finds it effortless. Where previously he had been awed by Viktor’s acting, thinking himself pale in comparison, in performance the audience energise him. He cries, and it’s genuine. When he dies, the audience cry too. He and Viktor are whisked backstage, and the spell is broken.

Underneath the riser, Viktor turns to Yuuri with a grin. He can’t say anything, because the play is still ongoing, the last scene keeping the audience’s attention as cast and chorus spill and spread up and down the traverse, and back and forth across the scaffolding. But his grin is bright enough to be visible, even in the dim. Yuuri throws his arms around Viktor, and feels himself relax. All of the tension that he carried in himself before the show started, and in Juliet as a character, drains away until he is loose and languid in his arms and Viktor has to hold him up.

“You were wonderful, Yuuri,” Viktor whispers in his ear, barely louder than a breath. Yuuri nods into Viktor’s neck. He was pretty good – he knows he was. There’s a certain sort of cold detachment that comes when one is onstage – that detached consciousness is always honest to a fault, and Yuuri knows truth when he hears it, even from himself. He _was_ good. It was possibly the best performance he has ever done – and he will only get better.

But Viktor – _Viktor_. Yuuri has been mesmerised by Viktor’s acting since he saw the year ten production when he was in year nine. But recently it’s been about more than just Viktor’s acting – although it still leaves Yuuri breathless, this time he’s proud of Viktor too. Proud as a…a friend? As something more? He knows that this was one of Viktor’s best performances, too. Yuuri wants to tell Viktor this, but knows it will have to wait.

They separate as the rest of the cast come charging back under the risers, and they are swept forwards into bows. As the stars, they come out last. Just before they step out of the dark, Viktor reaches back and his fingers find Yuuri’s. Although they did not do this in the dress rehearsal, it feels only right to step out into the light clasping hands, to bow together, to raise their arms together. Yuuri stares out at the audience, and he can’t keep the smile off of his face. As they take one final bow, he looks across to Viktor. Viktor is already watching him, smile wide and eyes wet. This is so unexpected that Yuuri does a double take. But perhaps it was only a trick of the light, because when Viktor throws an arm around Yuuri’s shoulders as they walk offstage, he seems as dry eyed as ever.

 

There are euphoric celebrations in the dressing room.

“You two were amazing!” Phichit cries as soon as Viktor and Yuuri walk in. He comes running, and throw his arms around them both. Yuuri, who is not expecting it, stumbles, and the three of them stagger about for a few seconds like some strange six-legged beast. Minami turns up from the side-lines and removes Yuuri from the rest, clinging to his arm and gushing.

“You were great too, Minami,” Yuuri tells the younger boy truthfully. Minami looks as if he’s about to cry.

“Keep it together,” Yuuri advises him, “we still have three more performances to go!”

Yuuri looks around for Viktor – as he always does – and sees Viktor in a huddle with Otabek and Mickey and Emil. They’re all yelling excitedly about the performance. Yuuri considers for a moment going over, but decides against it. They’re all a friend group, and they probably don’t want him butting into their conversation.

“Yuuri!” Leo yells from directly behind Yuuri, and flings his arms around his friend. Yuuri turns around, and finds himself squashed in a hug sandwich between he and Guang-Hong.

“You were both so good,” Yuuri says to them. He’s half patting Guang-Hong’s head, and his own head is squashed underneath Leo’s arm.

“Yuuri,” Guang-Hong says, “you and Viktor are so absolutely incredible. It was a privilege to get to see you both onstage.”

“Aw, Guang-Hong,” Yuuri says, because he doesn’t quite know what else to say.

Then Miss Okukawa comes into the room. She claps her hands and calls, and everyone turns to look at her.

“Well done tonight,” she tells them all, “I have some notes, but they can wait until tomorrow. Now, all of you back to the right dressing rooms, clear off your makeup, and go home. You all need your beauty sleep – this is going to be a long week.”

A few people start clapping, cheering for her for her direction. She looks as if she might cry, but accepts the applause with good grace.

“Thank you, Miss Okukawa,” Yuuri tells her as he walks past her back towards the principal dressing room. She seizes his shoulders and pulls him into a hug.

“No, thank _you_ Yuuri,” she says, “that was a wonderful performance you put on. Keep up the good work!”

Glowing from the praise, Yuuri and his friends continue to the dressing room. They are joined almost immediately by the rest of the principal cast, who chatter and laugh as they all hastily de-costume and scrub at their faces with makeup wipes. Yuuri can’t really be bothered, but exhaustion is already starting to seep into his bones as the adrenaline of the performance wears off. He knows he needs to do it now, because he’s planning on falling face first into his pillow the minute he gets home.

He totally forgets that Viktor is driving him home until he’s halfway out of the building. He stops dead and someone’s mother walks into him.

“Sorry,” he apologises, and doubles back to the dressing room. Viktor is just leaving. He’s unplaited his hair but not brushed it out, and it’s sticking up around his face in a strange mane of platinum blonde. He has his Nike bag over one shoulder, and he’s looking at something on his phone. He looks up and sees Yuuri as the door to the dressing room falls shut with the usual crash behind him, and a smile illuminates his face.

“I forgot you were taking me home” Yuuri says. Viktor laughs.

“I thought so!” he waves his phone at Yuuri, “I just texted you!”

They fall into step together as they walk through the now-empty foyer towards the carpark. Yuuri watches Viktor as they walk. He’s looking ahead, smiling softly to himself, but he catches Yuuri looking when he glances up suddenly. Yuuri blushes. Viktor tips sideways and nudges his shoulder. Yuuri shoves him back. Viktor is laughing mostly silently as he stumbles sideways, and rams Yuuri back into the glass door.

The smile slowly dissolves from his face to be replaced by something else, because they are now standing in very close proximity. Yuuri’s back is flush to the cold glass, and his heart is beating loudly in his ears. Viktor is very, very close – close enough for Yuuri to be able to see the pores on his nose, the chapped skin on his lips.

“It worked,” Yuuri blurts, and it’s so completely random that Viktor blinks.

“What?”  
“Oh sorry, I forgot you can’t _actually_ read my mind,” Yuuri apologises. This makes Viktor smile and he opens his mouth to say something, but Yuuri shakes his head a little. Viktor closes his mouth again and looks expectant.

“You know, earlier. Before the show. You told me I should …”

“Think about kissing me,” Viktor finishes.

“Mmn,” Yuuri knows he is blushing now, but he kind of doesn’t care. He’s still riding a high from the success of the performance, and he feels untouchable, “I did. It worked.”

“I’m glad,” Viktor whispers, and then he touches the tips of his fingers to Yuuri’s hips and his bag falls from his shoulder and lands on the floor with a muffled clattering. Yuuri’s heart is beating so fast it hurts. Viktor pauses for a second, and his eyes flick from Yuuri’s down to his lips. He moves his head forward, and Yuuri’s eyes are just starting to flutter closed when there is an almighty crash from outside. Viktor and Yuuri leap apart.

Yuuri’s heart gives an unpleasant jump at the fright, and he presses his hand to his chest.

“What was that?” Viktor asks unnecessarily, and opens the door to go and look. Yuuri watches him go with a sigh. The moment seems to be over. Resignedly, he follows Viktor outside.

A car has backed into one of the bollards outside the sports centre – unlit in the dark, the driver hadn’t known they were there, and is now swearing loudly as they examine the dent in the back of the SUV.

“Ooops,” Viktor whispers in Yuuri’s ear, “bet she’ll try and bill the school for that one!”

“Probably,” Yuuri agrees. He looks back over his shoulder curiously a few times as he follows Viktor back to his car, and thus nearly gets run over when he tries to cross the driveway. Viktor seizes him by the collar and pulls him back, and Yuuri’s still thanking him as they throw their bags into the boot. It isn’t until Yuuri is buckled in and Viktor is backing out of his parking spot that Yuuri’s brain finally catches up with him.

Viktor had been about to kiss him. He had been about to kiss Viktor. Yuuri stares across the car, watching Viktor spin the wheel with the palm of his right hand as he watches the rear view mirror. He notices Yuuri’s attention when he puts the car into reverse.

“What?” he asks.

“I – I guess I just wanted to say you were incredible tonight. It’s an honour to act with you.”

“Aww, Yuuri,” Viktor reaches across and pats him on the knee, “you’re so sweet! But holy shit, can we talk about you? You were absolutely phenomenal,” Viktor shakes his head in amazement, “like – oh, by the way, I’m sorry about that kiss,” Yuuri’s heart jumps painfully, “in the first scene.”

“Oh,” Yuuri says, relieved, “that kiss.”

Viktor glances sharply across at him, and Yuuri clears his throat.

“No, I mean, it was fine,” Yuuri says quickly to cover the moment, “I usually don’t do very well with improv, but it really worked. Maybe we should keep it like that?”

“Yeah,” Viktor agrees, “I think so. I mean I guess we could take it performance by performance, you know, but I think it worked. You responded pretty well. I was worried it would freak you out.”

“It did a bit,” Yuuri admits. His hand is halfway to his mouth, when he suddenly realises and forces it back to his lap.

“You stayed in character, though. Your Juliet is so beautiful,” Viktor says.

They trade compliments back and forth all the way home, until Yuuri is buzzing, drunk on platitudes and so overtired he’s starting to lose the plot completely. When Viktor pulls up outside of his house, Yuuri gets out immediately, lest he do something stupid like try and kiss Viktor goodnight.

“Thanks for the ride,” he says as he holds the door open, “see you tomorrow!”

“See you!” Viktor says, popping the boot so Yuuri can get his bag. Viktor waits on the curb to make sure Yuuri gets into the house okay, and it’s such a sweet thing to do that Yuuri nearly starts crying.

“Go to bed, Yuuri,” he tells himself, as he fights off the tears that are lurking just below the surface. Instead of sobbing, he pitches face first onto his bed and is asleep as soon as his face hits the pillow.

 

* * *

 

His and Viktor’s families are both attending on the second night. Yuuri is nervous – not for the fact that they’re going to watch him act, but the fact that they’re going to watch him flirt with and kiss Viktor onstage. Although he doesn’t know what would be worse – his parents and elder sister seeing him making out with a guy they’ve never met, or seeing the same with one they have?

He spends so much time pondering this in silence in form class on Wednesday morning that Guang-Hong asks him what is wrong. Yuuri simplifies his quandary by only telling him that he’s worried about his parents coming to see.

“But they’ve come to see all of your performances, Yuuri,” Guang-Hong says kindly, “it’s not a big deal, is it?”

“Not really,” Yuuri sighs, “but it’s nerve wracking.”

“Just don’t put your contacts in,” Phichit says, looking up from his phone to join in the conversation, “that way you won’t be able to see them in the audience. You can pretend they’re not there!”

 

Viktor refuses to allow him to do this.

“Don’t be silly, Yuuri,” he says, picking up the little case of contacts with one hand and looping his other arm around Yuuri’s neck to drag him to the bathroom, “if you die on stage because you can’t see and trip over –”

“I think that’s a bit overdramatic,” Yuuri mumbles.

“- then I think that would be a _lot_ worse than you accidentally making eye contact with your own family!”

“You make me sound terrible,” Yuuri grumbles, and then kicks Viktor out of the bathroom so he can put his contacts in in peace. This is less because he wants Viktor to stop talking to him, and more because it’s stressful enough poking your own eyeballs without your overly enthusiastic crush watching you as you do it.

When Yuuri emerges from the bathroom with 20/20 vision and the rumblings of anxiety starting in the pit of his stomach, Viktor is still there. He’s propped against the wall opposite texting someone, but he puts his phone away and smiles when Yuuri emerges.

“That’s better,” he says. Yuuri frowns at him.

“For all you know I just pretended to put them in,” he says.

“You squint,” Viktor tells him, “plus I can see the rings around your eyes.”

“Oh,” Yuuri says, brought up short. Viktor is right – he does squint terribly when he’s not wearing glasses or contacts, but he hadn’t realised Viktor had noticed. He also hadn’t realised that Viktor had been looking closely enough at his eyes to see the almost-invisible blue line ringing his irises.

They don’t talk any more about Yuuri’s family coming to see the performance – Viktor keeps him distracted by focusing on their characters, and also by producing two enormous sugary frappe’s that he had sent Mila on a secret mission to procure.

“ _Viktor,”_ Yuuri protests, as he is presented with his coffee, “you _need_ to stop buying me food!”

“Why?” Viktor, in make-up but not yet costume, is genuinely baffled, “I _like_ buying you food. It makes me happy. Would you really spoil all my fun?” he flutters his eyelashes, stepping closer to Yuuri to snuggle against his shoulder. Yuuri, whose heart is weak for food and for Viktor, gives in with a sigh.

 

* * *

 

“It was very –” Viktor’s mother pauses delicately.

“Gay,” Viktor injects helpfully.

“Viktor!” Yuuri says, at the exact same time that Viktor’s father says: “Viten’ka!” and pops him on the back of the head. Viktor just laughs.

“I’m not wrong!” he says. His mother sighs, but she is smiling.

“Don’t be crass,” she tells him, but there’s no bite to her words. Viktor opens his mouth, frowning slightly, but then the other Yuri appears from the direction of the bathroom. He is grinning somewhat fiendishly. His appearance distracts Viktor from whatever he had been about to say and he instead pounces on his little brother, nearly lifting him off the ground as he drags him back to the family circle.

“Yurochka,” he says, “did you like it?”

“It was gross,” Yurochka says, and then adds, “your ballet sucks.”

“Rude,” Viktor replies, ‘we can’t all be prodigies!”

To Yuuri’s surprise, Yurochka turns his alarmingly green eyes on him thoughtfully.

“You’re a good dancer,” he says, unexpectedly, and then adds “and actor,” as an afterthought.

“Thanks,” Yuuri says and smiles at the younger boy. He gets the impression that Yuri isn’t exactly one to give out compliments lightly, and is really flattered. Viktor grins at Yuuri, clearly thinking the same thing, and then drapes his arms over Yurachka’s shoulders and shakes him lightly back and forth.

“Ah, Yurochka,” he says, “you do care!”

“Not as much as you do,” Yurochka adds cryptically. Viktor goes still.

At this moment, Mari appears in Yuuri’s line of vision and he turns towards her, missing whatever Viktor says in response to Yurochka’s accusation. She spots him, and starts towards him determinedly. Yuuri steps away from Viktor’s little family circle, and goes towards her. She hugs him, quick and tight, and then steps away to ruffle his hair.

“You did really well, kid,” she says, smiling her little half smile, “I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks, Mari,” Yuuri says. His voice sounds a little thick, so he clears his throat quickly. Mari tips her head sideways so she can see past him to Viktor’s family, and then looks back at him.

“So you and Viktor have some chemistry, huh,” she says slyly.

“UM,” Yuuri says, as his face heats up.

“Oh Yuuri,” she says, “you’re so obvious.”

“Um,” he says again, “this is not really a conversation – “

But then his parents appear, so he cuts himself off quickly. His face is still flaming as he hugs them, accepts their congratulations. He doesn’t, however, miss the way his mother’s eyes cut between him and Viktor, who is still behind him. He thinks the worst for a paranoid, panicked moment, but then she steps around him and goes to congratulate Viktor, too.

“You were wonderful, dearie,” she says to him, and he nods and laughs and holds her elbow as he kisses her on the cheek and introduces her to his parents. Yuuri watches as his and Viktor’s families mingle, talking about their sons. It gives him a strange sort of feeling – transience, perhaps? It’s almost like he’s outside the moment, looking in – here is happiness, here is what was, here is Viktor with his silver-soft hair shaking hands with his sister and smiling.

With a sudden fierce longing, he knows he doesn’t want this to end. He doesn’t want the closeness brought by production to end, doesn’t want Viktor to slip away from him back into his own life without Yuuri in it. He wants it so fiercely that for a second he can’t breathe.

He moves without thinking, edging past his father and Yurochka and making his way directly to Viktor, who turns half towards him with a warm look that melts to surprise as Yuuri grabs his arm, spins him round, and flings his arms around him. His right arm is pressed against the small of Viktor’s back, his left hand curling across the base of his neck. Viktor hugs him back, cheek pressed against Yuuri’s neck directly below his ear.

“Are you okay?” he asks in the ghost of a whisper.

“Stay close to me,” Yuuri mumbles, so quietly that no one but Viktor can hear him. He can feel Viktor nod in response, and tighten his arms around him. But then he lets go, and Yuuri steps back a half-step. He realises belatedly that his and Viktor’s entire families are still standing there, and there are a few quirked eyebrows and a few mouth corners twitching. Yuuri looks down at his feet, grappling with his embarrassment.

But Viktor is still there. He rests his elbow against Yuuri’s shoulder as he lifts a leg to aim a gentle kick at his younger brother. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t acknowledge what Yuuri has said, but he does it all the same. He stays close to Yuuri as their families chat, as they walk to the carpark. Yuuri is returning with his own family today, but as Viktor leaves, his fingers brush against Yuuri’s wrist in the dark.

In the car on the way home, Yuuri’s father tells him he is brave for acting a romance with another man in a high school production.

“Kids can be cruel,” Mari agrees.

“They haven’t been,” Yuuri says, and then adds quietly, “not yet.”

That is all that is said on the matter – he knows that his family doesn’t care, knows that they are proud of his acting and of his achievement. There is a small ache, all the same, at his father’s words – just because kids haven’t been cruel yet, doesn’t mean they won’t be… but his friends, the year thirteens, the rest of the cast, the drama teachers – they are his family too, of a different sort. His shield. So it doesn’t bother him, he refuses to let it bother him. Being around Viktor, acting with Viktor, makes him feel untouchable. And even if he isn’t…

But he pushes these thoughts away. Instead he thinks about Viktor’s nod against his neck, and goes to bed happy.

 

* * *

 

By Friday, Yuuri is absolutely exhausted. He oversleeps by almost an hour because he just can’t keep his eyes open, and Mari drops him to school three minutes before the bell. His uniform is a mess, his hair is a mess, his maths homework is a mess, and all he wants to do is go to bed.

He makes it to second period with relatively passable cognitive function. Unfortunately, his usual second period class has been replaced by the mandatory once-a-month PE class. Yuuri wants to cry at the prospect of running laps. Coach Celestino watches Yuuri trying to walk with his eyes half closed. He also watches Yuuri bumping into the gym wall and bouncing off of it, and pulls him aside.

“Yuuri, are you okay?” he asks, “I can see you’re exhausted, and I know you’re in production…”

This sounds like an opening if there ever was one. Yuuri dares to hope, and peers up at Coach.

 “Honestly?” Yuuri says, “I just want to sleep.”

Coach Celestino scrutinises him for a long moment, then sighs.

“Fine. You’re the star of the show. Go have a nap or something,” he dismisses Yuuri, who nods tiredly and thanks him.

“Lucky bastard,” Phichit yawns at him as he slopes past. Yuuri swipes at his friend in a tired attempt at playful, and heads straight for the drama office. There’s a couch there that’s calling his name.

As Yuuri plods across the quiet school, he wonders at how strange it still feels to walk around outside of class, when everyone else is busy learning. It’s almost like a power kick – he’s free to do what he likes, he’s the star of the school right in this moment. As Yuuri knocks on the drama office door, he wonders if he’s becoming a bit of egoist. Maybe he’s been around Viktor too much.

There’s no one in the office, so Yuuri pokes his head into the year ten drama class to ask Miss Okukawa for permission to pass out on her couch. As soon as she sees him, she points towards the office and commands him to go to sleep immediately. He flashes her a grateful smile and a thumbs up as he retracts his head around the curtain. When he arrives back at the drama office, however, it is no longer empty. Viktor is just walking away from the door, looking absolutely exhausted.

“I just asked her,” Yuuri says, “I’m sure she’d say the same to you.”

“What did she tell you?” Viktor asks, with a little snort of amusement that seems to be all he can manage.

“She just pointed and said ‘bed. Immediately!’,” Yuuri giggles. Viktor rubs a hand over his face, and yawns.

“Good,” he says, “I’m exhausted. Let’s nap together!”

Instead of going to the other couch when Yuuri makes to lie down though, Viktor drags the coffee table out of the way.

“Viktor, what are you doing?” Yuuri asks Viktor’s butt, since it’s the only part of him that is currently visible. Viktor doesn’t answer, just continues tugging the other couch forward until it’s directly next to Yuuri’s chosen nap place.

“Move your legs,” Viktor says, as he goes around the other side to push is flush. Yuuri, totally baffled, complies.

“Why is this necessary?” he asks, as Viktor finally finishes moving the furniture.

“I want to nap with you,” Viktor blinks across at him.

“You could have just done that with the couch where it was before,” Yuuri points out. Viktor just rolls his eyes, and tells Yuuri to scoot over, before lying down next to him.

It is strangely intimate, made more so by the fact that they are at _school_. To be lying this close to Viktor, with the other boy’s face only a few inches from his own…Yuuri fights hard to control his breathing.

“Nighty night,” Viktor says with a tiny laugh, as his eyes drift shut.

“N-night, Viktor,” Yuuri says. He shuts his eyes most of the way, but watches Viktor through his eyes lashes for a moment. Viktor has one arm tucked underneath his head, and his left arm is wrapped tightly around his own stomach, fingers curled in on themselves. His right knee is brushing against Yuuri’s thigh, and the little shocks of sensation from the spot are making Yuuri feel all warm and fizzy.

But he’s so tired…so, so tired…

 

When he wakes up, he’s warm and comfortable. He thinks at first that he’s in bed, but no, that can’t be right...slowly he opens his eyes. It’s later in the afternoon now – the sun is coming in through the other window, spreading low and golden throughout the room. He’s lying on his back, and there’s a weight on his chest. For a split second, he doesn’t realise what it is.

Then he looks down, and sees that Viktor is curled up against him. Their legs are intertwined, and Viktor’s head is resting right in the middle of his chest. His left arm is curled around Yuuri’s side. He is also drooling. Yuuri closes his eyes again quickly, partly because _ohmyGod this can’t be real_ and partly because if anyone comes in, he’ll be saved the embarrassment if people think he’s asleep.

But then…he opens his eyes again, and looks down at Viktor. It’s an awkward angle, but it’s also an opportunity to stare as openly as he wants without being called out for it. He lifts his left hand carefully, curls it around Viktor’s head, strokes Viktor’s hair. Viktor makes a tiny happy noise in his sleep, so Yuuri keeps doing it. He’s wanted to do this for years, really. His hair is soft and silky, even after days of not being washed (it holds the style better that way), and of being gelled and hair sprayed and plaited to within an inch of its life every night.

After a few minutes that feel like a thousand, Yuuri moves his hand across to Viktor’s face. He doesn’t touch directly, merely trails his hand across where he might touch, if he were allowed. The broad plane of pale forehead, the sharp curve of cheekbone, even the tip of Viktor’s pointy nose. And then his mouth…he has kissed these lips. Yuuri traces the shape in the air mere millimetres above. But the kisses onstage – they’re not real. Yuuri wonders what it would be like to _really_ kiss Viktor.

He knows that they have almost kissed before now. The moment by the door after opening night was the closest they have gotten, but there have been other moments too. Other moments where Viktor’s eyes have flicked to Yuuri’s mouth, moments where Yuuri has lingered in a hug just a little too long. The impulsive moment where Yuuri kissed Viktor’s shoulder at Duck Island…

But does it count? This is what Yuuri thinks about, as he looks down at Viktor, sleeping so peacefully, curled up across his body. Why does Viktor seem to want him? It can’t be because he really likes him. With a sigh, Yuuri drops his hand back to his side, and stares up at the ceiling.

He doesn’t think that Viktor dislikes him a person – they are friends, Yuuri has unshakeable faith in that much at least. But…he knows that Viktor is a method actor. This is what has been bothering for some time, even if he hasn’t quite been able to put words to it. Every time Viktor flirts with him, every time Viktor holds his hand or looks like he wants to kiss him – is he just doing it because he’s a little bit in character? He’s so much _more_ than Yuuri is – so much brighter, so much bolder. There’s no way Yuuri as he is could ever be enough for him. So it must be acting – mustn’t it?

Viktor makes a snuffling noise, and cuddles closer to Yuuri, turning his head so that his face is buried directly in Yuuri’s shirt. The little wet patch of Viktor’s drool is suddenly exposed, and the dampness is cold. Yuuri sighs, and starts stroking Viktor’s hair again. May as well enjoy the last few moments of pretending that he and Viktor might have a chance, whilst he can.

 

“Mmphm, don’t stop,” Viktor mumbles a few minutes later, when Yuuri’s patting of Viktor’s head stops. Yuuri yelps and pulls his hand away.

“Hey,” Viktor says, without opening his eyes or moving his face from where it’s squashed into Yuuri’s chest, “I said don’t stop. Feels nice.”

“I didn’t know you were awake,” Yuuri says, as he tentatively resumes stroking Viktor hair.

“Wasn’t,” Viktor says, and sighs. Yuuri wonders if he’s gone back to sleep, but after a few moments he sighs and rolls over onto his elbow. Yuuri’s hand falls so it’s now resting behind Viktor’s head. He swallows.

“Have a good sleep, Yuuri?” Viktor asks. His voice is bleary, but his eyes are bright, and he looks well rested.

“Yeah,” Yuuri says, “did you?”

“Mmn,” Viktor nods, and smiles a little secret sleepy smile, “you make a nice pillow, Yuuri.”

“Uh, thanks,”

“No problem,” Viktor flutters his eyelashes at Yuuri, who tries to control his breathing. At that moment, the bell rings faintly outside in the hallway.

“Huh?” Viktor rubs at his eyes, “what’s the time?”

He doesn’t wait for Yuuri to answer, instead digging his own phone out of his pocket to check the time.

“Oh shit,” he says, and turns the screen towards Yuuri to look at the time. His background picture is Makkachin.

“Oh shit,” Yuuri agrees. It’s 2:20 – they’ve been sleeping for almost three hours.

“Should we go to class?” he asks Viktor, who shakes his head and collapses backwards, crushing Yuuri’s hand.

“Nah,” he says, “I’m not going to.”

“I feel bad though,” Yuuri bites his lip, “I mean, I have slept now, so it’s just wagging…”

“Yuuri,” Viktor says firmly, and waggles his finger back and forth in front of Yuuri’s now, “this is the last day you can claim to be the school star. Don’t waste it!”

“Is that what you do whenever you’re a lead in production?” Yuuri asks incredulously, “just slack off?”

Viktor pauses.

“I – you make me sound terrible,” he says. Yuuri thinks he might be offended.

“I’m sorry,” he apologises, “I didn’t mean – “

“Yeah, you did,” Viktor corrects him. He folds his legs up underneath him so he’s sitting cross legged, and he frowns across at Yuuri.

“I dunno,” he shrugs, “I guess I just don’t care then, huh?” He shrugs it off and smiles, but Yuuri _knows_ now that he’s hurt Viktor’s feelings.

“I’m sorry,” Yuuri says again.

“It’s fine,” Viktor says airily.

“No, it’s not, I didn’t mean it. Not like that.”

“I said it’s fine, Yuuri,” Viktor says, and he sounds cold now. Yuuri recoils like he’s been slapped.

“Viktor, why won’t you let me apologise?”

Viktor raises his knee and presses his face into it. His ponytail swings over the top of his head and hides his eyes.

“Because you’re right,” he says quietly into his pant leg.

“What?”

“Because you’re right!” Viktor repeats, nearly yelling as he looks up at Yuuri again, “I _do_ just slack off, okay? You don’t need to make me feel so bad about it. I’m sorry I’m not as per – “ he cuts himself off suddenly, and snaps his mouth shut. Yuuri just gapes at him. He’s never seen Viktor lose his temper like this, never seen Viktor’s calm and bubbly personality affected by anything. But then he processes Viktor’s words – not as per…?

“I didn’t mean to make you feel bad,” Yuuri says. He feels awkward, doesn’t know how to deal with Viktor when he’s not behaving like Viktor. Viktor just puts his face back down on his knee. Desperately, Yuuri tries to think of something that might diffuse the situation.

“It’s alright,” he says eventually, “everybody adores you, so like. Schoolwork is boring anyway. I’d slack off too, if I could,” he finishes a little lamely. Viktor looks back up at him slowly, and huffs.

“You _can_ slack off,” he says, “that’s the point. So don’t go to class. Or do, I don’t care.”

He tips over sideways and curls back up into a ball, without looking at Yuuri. For a moment, Yuuri hesitates. He does feel bad about skipping class, but…

Slowly, he reaches his hand out, and strokes Viktor’s hair again. The small sliver of Viktor’s face that Yuuri can see relaxes into a smile.

_God_ , this is going to hurt when it’s all over.

 

Miss Okukawa comes in at 3.20 to Yuuri combing Viktor’s hair with his fingers. She doesn’t even pause in the doorway but breezes straight to her desk to dump her empty tea mug.

“Have a good rest, boys?” she asks.

“Sure did,” Viktor says chirpily, “thanks so much for letting us rest here today!”

“No problem,” Miss Okukawa says, and then asks if they’re planning on staying on her couches all the way up to 7 o’clock. Sheepishly, Yuuri and Viktor take their leave and wander out into the hallway. It’s still thronging with students in backpacks, heading to the back gate. Several of them stop Viktor and tell him that they’re coming to see him perform for closing night. He thanks them enthusiastically, knows their names. Yuuri watches him interact with a smile, even as his heart is hurting.

“Yuuri, why do you look so sad?” Viktor asks him, as they head into the dressing room to wait for the rest of the cast to start turning up at four. Yuuri just shrugs, and turns the lock on the door.

“I guess I don’t want this to end,” he says softly.

“Neither,” Viktor says, and bumps his shoulder gently against Yuuri’s. Yuuri wonders if he is thinking of production, or their pseudo-relationship. His throat constricts painfully, and he passes it off as a coughing fit. But even then, Viktor is far too sweet. He grabs a water bottle from his backpack, makes another joke about glandular fever, doesn’t even notice Yuuri’s fingers are shaking as accepts the water and gulps it down.

Viktor shows him family videos on his phone, of Yuri and Masha, of Makkachin, of a family christmas from three years prior. Yuuri tries to enjoy the distraction, but he just can’t take it anymore.

“Viktor, I’m sorry,” he blurts suddenly. Viktor pauses the video and looks up at him, his mouth a little ‘o’ of surprise.

“Are you apologising for our fight earlier again?” he asks, “because honestly Yuuri, I’m over it, I promise.”

His smile is soft and sweet. Yuuri takes a step back.

“No, it’s not that Viktor, it’s…” he takes a deep breath, “let’s end this, okay?”

Viktor blinks.

“…what?”

“You know,” Yuuri says sadly.

“No,” Viktor says. There is colour rising in his cheeks, and he looks…really hurt. Like, _really_ hurt. “I don’t know what you’re talking about Yuuri, please elaborate.”

“There’s no point me pretending anymore,” he says, “I know you –” but then he stops, because Viktor has started crying. Yuuri has never seen Viktor anything other than composed. Even when they had argued earlier, Viktor kept his cool. But now he’s pressed a hand to his mouth and there are actual _tears_ in his eyes. He looks down at his feet and his untied hair flops down over his face.

Moving without thinking about it, Yuuri moves forwards again and carefully lifts Viktor’s hair away from his forehead, just to check he really is crying.

“Yuuri, what are you doing?” Viktor asks.

“You’re crying,” Yuuri says, stating the obvious.

Viktor slaps his hand away.

“I’m mad, okay?” he says angrily. His voice is shaking. Yuuri wants so badly to touch Viktor’s face again, to wipe the tears away (because oh my God, Viktor is crying and he looks weirdly beautiful with his eyes red and tears leaking all over his porcelain cheeks), but he doesn’t know _how_. He doesn’t _know_ how to comfort people when they’re upset, doesn’t know how to make better what he broke. Clearly he can’t just start stroking Viktor’s hair again, because Viktor would probably strangle him if he tried, and anyway this is a very different situation. So he just takes a deep breath and keeps going.

“You don’t have to keep this up anymore,” he says, and waves his hand between the two of them to make it clear what he’s talking about, “I know all of this has just been for production – when it’s over we can just go back to our lives.”

“Yuuri,” Viktor breathes out Yuuri’s name with a tremor in his voice. He swipes a palm angrily across his cheek, “why would you think that? What, do you think none of this has been real? Do you _honestly_ think so little of yourself that you think I don’t like you?”

“What? This isn’t about me,” Yuuri blinks, startled, “this is about you going back to what you –”

“It’s always about you!” Viktor raises his voice only slightly, but it’s enough for Yuuri to take a full step back.

“This is just you being selfish,” Viktor continues bitterly.

“But…”

“It is though, right? God,” Viktor presses his face into his hands, and he either sobs or takes a deep breath, Yuuri can’t quite tell, “you’re doing this because you like to burn your bridges,” Viktor says when he looks up. His pale face is flushed, and his lip is still wobbling, but he seems to be trying to pull himself together.

“Why are you trying so hard to burn this bridge, Yuuri?” Viktor asks. Slowly, carefully, he reaches out and touches Yuuri’s shoulder. Yuuri doesn’t react, so Viktor steps closer. He has one hand on each of Yuuri’s shoulders, and he’s close enough for Yuuri to see the tears clinging to his eyelashes.

“I’m sorry,” Yuuri says.

“Sorry for trying to push me away?”

“I’m sorry for making you cry,” Yuuri says honestly. He starts to lift his hand, lowers it again, hates himself for being so _awkward_.

“ _God_ ,” Viktor huffs. His fingers tighten on Yuuri’s shoulders so that his grip is almost painful. But he doesn’t move away, and neither does Yuuri.

“Viktor,” Yuuri says, “I’m not trying to, to burn bridges I just…I dunno. I want you to do what’s best for you. You don’t have to worry about hurting me, or anything, when everything goes back to normal.”

Viktor glowers at Yuuri. He sucks his lower lip in and bites down hard, and his eyes are all watery again, but he’s glaring at Yuuri so angrily and from such close proximity that Yuuri tries to take a step back again. Viktor lets him go.

“I wish I knew how to make you feel better,” Yuuri says miserably, “I’m sorry.”

“Yuuri,” Viktor tips his head to the side. His platinum hair tumbles down around his face again.

“You’re really fucking oblivious,” Viktor says.

“…huh?”

Yuuri is reminded of Mari on Wednesday night after the show, teasing him about being obvious. Obvious, oblivious… but before Yuuri can elaborate on his question, the door handle jangles violently.

“Eh?” says a voice from outside, and then the door shakes again. Viktor turns away to dab at his face with his sleeves, and Yuuri, after a moment, goes to open the door.

It’s Chris, armed with his makeup bag. He barges straight in, and then pauses when he sees Viktor, who is trying to hide his face. Seeing as the room is mirrored on all sides, this is to very little effect. Chris glances back and forth between the two, and then frowns.

“Am I interrupting?” he asks.

“Nope,” Viktor turns and breezes past him out of the door, “you’re good.”

He disappears into the bathroom next door, leaving Chris and Yuuri standing in the middle of the room, staring after him.

“I’m not going to ask,” Chris says as he puts his stuff down and pulls out a makeup brush, which he points at Yuuri menacingly, “but, by the way Yuuri, if you break his heart, I’ll shove this up your ass.”

Yuuri takes the threat seriously. But, how can he break Viktor’s heart? He still doesn’t quite understand how he managed to make Viktor _cry_. He still feels upset and confused, but now he’s beginning to feel guilty too. He went wrong somewhere. Why the hell did he pick two fights with Viktor? Why _did_ Viktor start crying the second time? And for God’s sake, why had he just stood there like a lemon and not given Viktor a hug or something?

“Argh,” he says, and leaves the room to go in search of his makeup bag.

 

* * *

 

The dressing room feels like a party tonight. The seniors trickle in one by one, armed with makeup and snacks. It’s been about half an hour, and Viktor still hasn’t returned. Yuuri hovers awkwardly between Phichit and Leo, who ask him three times apiece what’s wrong, before he at last decides he has to try and fix whatever the hell went wrong.

Viktor isn’t in either of the main bathrooms in the drama corridor, or the drama office. Yuuri has just about given up, when he hears Viktor’s voice coming from the main dressing room. He sticks his head around the curtain.

Sure enough, Viktor is there. He’s eating pringles and talking to some year tens, gesticulating wildly with the can in his hand. He sees Yuuri immediately, and smiles at him. Yuuri hesitates awkwardly, but Viktor comes bounding over to him. It hurts Yuuri’s heart a little, to see Viktor as bouncy and peppy as usual.

But then Viktor flings his arms around Yuuri and hugs him far more tightly than the situation perhaps demands. Yuuri hugs him back just as hard, and tries not to think any negative thoughts. He just focuses on Viktor, on the way he feels and the way he smells and the way that he smiles when he pulls back and says: “We’ll talk this out later, okay? But I’m not going anywhere,” and takes his hand, and tugs him over to the little circle of juniors.

Yuuri watches Viktor as he dives straight back into the conversation, and tries to work out just what that means. Viktor absentmindedly feeds him a pringle as he nods along to what the year ten (whom Yuuri _thinks_ is named James) is saying about his science teacher. Viktor has prodded Yuuri twice in the mouth before he realises that Yuuri is not eating the proffered food, and turns his head to glare.

“Open,” he commands. Yuuri does so, mainly just because he’s a little baffled, and slightly embarrassed, and other various warm feelings that he’s sort of afraid to name. Viktor just keeps feeding him pringles, until Yuuri is forced to take the can away from him and hand it back to the boy that it belongs to.

“Come on Viktor,” Yuuri tugs on his hand, “we need to go do our makeup now, it’s like, five o clock.”

“Oh yeah,” Viktor turns and glares at the clock, and then waves goodbye to his junior friends. He still doesn’t let go of Yuuri’s hands.

“Viktor…” Yuuri starts as they get to the hallway.

Viktor rounds on him, and presses the tips of his fingers to Yuuri’s mouth.

“Please don’t worry about it now, alright?” he says urgently, ”we just need to focus on the performance for now. I promise, we _will_ talk about it later. In detail. And there’ll be no crying, okay?”

He smiles – because he’s always smiling, and he’s so genuine and so bright and just so _much_. Yuuri pushes Viktor’s hand aside with his cheek, and throws his arms around Viktor’s shoulders.

“I don’t want this to end,” Yuuri says, meaning production, meaning them, meaning Romeo and Juliet and Yuuri and Viktor. Viktor doesn’t respond, just presses his face into Yuuri’s shoulder and loops his arms around Yuuri’s waist.

“Oi!” Chris has emerged from the dressing room, and stuck his head around the corner to look at them, “stop canoodling and come and get your makeup done!”

Yuuri and Viktor break apart. Yuuri’s face is flaming. Viktor exchanges a weighty glance with Chris, which Yuuri can’t interpret.

 

Back in the principal dressing room, pizzas have arrived. Yuuri and Viktor do their base makeup quickly, and then eat whilst getting their hair done. Yuuri is drawn into a conversation with Emil and Mickey about the previous night’s rugby match. All too soon, they’re costumed up and meeting in the main dressing room for the last warm up of the show. Everyone is tense, and excited.

“This is it, everyone,” Miss Okukawa says, “we’ve been sold out every night, but the people out there have heard only good things. We’ve worked so hard for this. Get out there and give it your best!”

There’s no room for any other emotion now. Yuuri pushes aside all his anxiety and his sadness, and pulls on Juliet instead. Because they have one more night left of this, before they all must get back to the rest of their lives. One last golden night on the stage before it’s all over.

 

* * *

 

The next two and half hours pass in a blur of lights and dancing and Viktor, Viktor, Viktor. Every time they kiss onstage, Yuuri feels the bitterness in the bittersweet ratio increasing. Viktor tastes like mint, as per usual. He seems to be holding Yuuri closer than usual, kissing him harder – but maybe it’s just wishful thinking on Yuuri’s part. But just in case it’s not, he tries to channel some of his own desperation into the final few kisses. Knowing this is the end, knowing that he’ll never get to touch Viktor’s face like it’s his right again…when Yuuri cries onstage as Juliet, his tears are real. This surprises him – he didn’t know there was this much emotion in him to spill over.

He knows his lips must taste salty as Juliet kisses Romeo for the last time.

And then it really is over, and he and Viktor are being wheeled offstage, and they’re alone under the risers. Just like in the first dress rehearsal, Viktor rolls over onto his hands and knees. He reaches for Yuuri, and Yuuri falls into his arms – but then Viktor pushes him back. One of the support poles of the riser is at Yuuri’s back, and Viktor shoves him against it – not hard enough to make the riser shake, nor hard enough to hurt.

Viktor does not speak – he is too well trained for that. Yuuri wonders absently what he is going to do, why he won’t hug Yuuri tonight – but then he sees, in the flashes of light from the stage, the look on Viktor’s face. He looks determined. He moves his hands from Yuuri’s shoulders up to his cheeks, and leans in.

Viktor, unlike Romeo, kisses gently. He seems a little unsure, as he brushes his lips lightly against Yuuri’s. At first, Yuuri doesn’t react. Viktor is on his knees, pressed against him, kissing him, and he just…sits there. But then when Viktor starts to pull away, Yuuri finally comes to his senses. He reaches up and twines his fingers in Viktor’s hair and pulls him back.

Viktor huffs out a breath in surprise, but still doesn’t make a sound as Yuuri kisses him. Because Yuuri knows how to kiss now – has kissed Viktor onstage so many times that he knows how to do it. He has, after all, learned from the best. Viktor opens his mouth a little, makes a tiny little sighing noise that has Yuuri tugging harder on his hair. His heart is in his ears and his mouth and in the palms of his hands. He’s holding it out to Viktor, and Viktor is taking it, taking it, taking it.

They part with shuddering breaths as the applause breaks out on stage. The room goes black. Viktor slides back, Yuuri takes a deep breath. The show is not over yet.

Yuuri moves as if in a daydream. He returns to the stage, takes his bow. Viktor is beside him, and their fingers are twined together – but it feels different now. It feels personal. It feels, for the first time, like Viktor, rather than Romeo.

They present flowers to the teachers and stage manager – Yuuri and Georgi and Minami hold the bouquets, and Viktor does the talking. Then they all bubble off the stage, and it’s really, finally over.

“Holy shit, holy shit,” Chris is saying over and over, hugging anyone he can reach. Mickey is swinging Guang-Hong around and around. Emil and Minami are dancing, laughing, calling each other ‘wife’ and ‘husband’. Phichit gets his selfie stick out and seizes Yuuri first. Then he’s set upon by chorus members, who shower him in compliments and hugs. Chris turns up again, picking him up into a bear hug, telling him that he will be eternally sorry that he can only be second best to Viktor in Yuuri’s affections.

Eventually the principal cast are shooed into their own dressing room, where everyone lingers over their makeup remover wipes, enjoying the last few seconds remaining in their costumes.

“I’m sad it’s over,” Phichit sighs, as he looks down at his pink and green costume, “even if I won’t miss this hideous thing.”

“ _I’ll_ miss that hideous thing,” Leo says as he scrubs at his eye makeup, “it’s the best thing I’ve ever seen you in – and I was there when we were 13 and dressed you up in Yuuri’s sister’s tutu – I can’t believe you wore it onstage for four nights.”

“Neither can I!” Phichit laughs as he steps out of his costume for the last time and hangs it reverentially on its hanger.

“Hey everyone,” he calls, once he’s put his clothes back on, “we should all get one last picture of the principal cast before people start to leave!”

“Trust you, Phichit,” Seung-gil rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling. Just a little.

“I’m ready,” Chris announces. He’s only wearing underwear, and strikes a pose. Mickey looks like he wants to die. From across the room, Viktor throws his costume straight at Chris’s head.

“I’ll do it if you’re not careful,” Phichit says with a grin.

So they take one last selfie together, and Chris is practically naked. Which is to be expected, really. Viktor and Yuuri stand at the back. Yuuri keeps turning his head to look at Viktor, wants to be sure, wants to talk to him, wants to _know_. Viktor is looking at him too, every time Yuuri turns his head – but there’s no time to talk. Not yet.

“Hey, no,” Guang-Hong says before Phichit can take the photo, “the stars should be in the front!”

“Ah, it’s fine,” Yuuri tries to protest, but Georgi turns around and pulls him by the collar of his hoodie into the front of the group. Viktor follows him.

Phichit has taken two of the group in various poses before Viktor turns and presses his lips to Yuuri’s cheek. Yuuri loops his arm around Viktor’s waist – holding Viktor, but holding himself up too. He feels a little shaky and nervous – overstimulated, maybe. Overemotional certainly.

Slowly, the group dissolves. Phichit himself is the first to leave, but he drags Yuuri with him.

“My parents want to see you!” he sees. Yuuri hugs the rest of the cast one last time, before filing out into the foyer with Phichit. The bang of the door slamming shut behind him makes him jump.

Phichit’s parents fawn over their son and compliment Yuuri, and other people’s parents talk to Yuuri too. Slowly the rest of the cast file past Yuuri where he waits on the stairs. Viktor is the last to leave as usual.

When he finally appears, Yuuri isn’t even looking. He’s looking through all the photos on his phone, trying to decide which one will be the best to post on Instagram. Viktor has been standing in front of him, waiting, for several moments before Yuuri suddenly realises that he’s there and looks up.

“Vitya,” Yuuri says. There is a thud as Viktor’s bag hits the ground, and he kneels down in front of Yuuri.

“Yura,” he says, so gently. He doesn’t reach for Yuuri, just kneels there. So Yuuri moves first. He reaches out a hand, pauses, then touches Viktor’s lower lip with the tip of his finger. Viktor closes his eyes, and shudders slightly.

“Viktor, I,” says Yuuri, “I have to know.”

“You’re still so oblivious, Yuuri,” Viktor says gently. He opens his eyes and stands again, holding out his hands. Yuuri accepts them, and Viktor tugs him to his feet. They stand close for a second. Yuuri is one step higher than Viktor, and is therefore slightly taller.

“It’s only been a few hours,” Yuuri says, with a little laugh, “of course I’m still oblivious. You haven’t told me anything.”

“Yes I have,” Viktor says. Yuuri hesitates, and Viktor shakes his head and rolls his eyes a little, and tips his face forward and kisses Yuuri again.

This time, there is no doubt that it is real. Underneath the riser, high on the adrenaline of the last performance, it could have been anything. It could have been thank you, it could have been a last homage to Romeo – but this is not either of those things. This is unequivocal. This is Viktor, kissing him. This is Viktor’s hands on his waist, and Viktor’s eyes closed, and Viktor biting down on his lower lip and making him gasp.

“Oh,” Yuuri says, when Viktor finally pulls away, “I thought…”

“I know,” Viktor says, “you’re just totally blind, Yuuri. You do know that, right?”

“I…I guess,” Yuuri says. He is still breathless, still cannot take his eyes off Viktor.

“I also did literally tell you that I liked you,” Viktor says, “by the way.”

“What? When?”

“When we went to Duck Island,” Viktor tips his head to the side, “I said, and I quote ‘I like you’.”

“…oh,” Yuuri says slowly, “I thought you meant you liked me as a person.”

“That too,” Viktor snickers, bites his lip.

“I thought you got it though – you kissed me on the shoulder, if you don’t remember.”

“Um,” Yuuri says, “I do remember. Vividly. When did you -?” he is slightly embarrassed to ask, he doesn’t know why. “The first rehearsal,” he says immediately, “where you dropped me and then fell on top of me.”

“Oh,” Yuuri feels his face heating up at the memory, “I’m sorry – “

Viktor stops Yuuri from apologising by kissing him again. Viktor, Yuuri has already discovered, is very good at kissing.

“ _Well then_!” says someone.

Viktor and Yuuri leap apart. Seeing as they are both standing precariously on a set of steps, this is to rather detrimental effect. Yuuri nearly falls over and has to seize the handrail for balance. Viktor does fall over, and seizes Yuuri for balance. This results in both boys and a Nike bag tumbling down several steps and landing in a mess of limbs on the foyer floor. Yuuri looks up into the gleeful face of Chris.

“Shut up,” he hears Viktor say.

“I didn’t say anything!” Chris exclaims.

“Don’t start now then,” Viktor sighs. Chris just cackles madly as he walks away, calling over his shoulder for them to have fun.

“Don’t think too hard about what he means by that,” says Viktor as he gets up and heaves Yuuri to his feet, “are you alright?”

“Fine,” Yuuri says. He can’t stop smiling, and it’s stupid because he literally just fell down the stairs and it kind of hurt actually, but no matter what he does he can’t stop grinning like an idiot. Viktor picks up his bag, and then links his fingers through Yuuri’s.

“Shall we go?” he asks.

“Yeah, sure,” Yuuri says, but kisses Viktor instead. Because he can. Because Viktor responds immediately, with a happy little sigh and fingers in his hair. And maybe – _maybe_ – Yuuri will wake up in the morning and this will all have been a dream. But maybe not. There are all sorts of questions Yuuri wants to ask Viktor, as they walk to his car, as they drive home, as they sit outside Yuuri’s house for close to an hour. But he doesn’t, because Viktor tells him that they have time, that this good thing is real – and for once in his life, high on adrenaline and dopamine and the taste of Viktor’s lips, Yuuri believes him.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is the longest writing project that I have ever actually completed, and I couldn't have done it w/o my wonderful beta Anna!  
> Also yoi has been such a massive inspiration for me - I haven't written, let alone completed, this much content in years really. It makes me very happy, and I love sharing my work with all of y'all and being a part of this community.  
> If any1 would like 2 come and scream with me about our ice gays pls hmu on tumblr @ [elesssar](http://www.elesssar.tumblr.com) !


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